The Price of Freedom
by megHan5
Summary: With Will gone at sea for months at a time, Elizabeth discovers that married life isn't all that she'd hoped it would be. Could Jack Sparrow be what she needs? AU after CotBP FOUR YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THE STORY! Please R&R so I can finally put this to rest
1. Freedom

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the soon-to-be read characters or the plot of the movie. I do, however, own the right to use them in whatever manner I please. So there. *sticks out tongue*  
  
A/N: Well, well, well here I go again. I haven't even updated on my other three stories so I *naturally* have to go and write another one. Stupid me. Actually, this is meant as a vignette but could become more with the proper encouragement. ; D  
  
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"Wherever we want to go, we'll go, that's what a ship is, you know. It's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails that's what a ship needs but what a ship is.what the Black Pearl really is.is freedom."  
  
Freedom. Elizabeth shivered slightly as the early morning breeze flooded through the open window, brushing her skin lightly. She could almost feel Jack's warm hand around her shoulder and smell the smoke in the air as her brain struggled to shake off the last remnants of the recurring dream. Jack's whole life had revolved around the idea that freedom, the ability to escape whatever captor bound you, was the one and only reason to continue living. She knew that he would never be able to live in captivity of any kind, his spirit would wither and fade all to quickly before his body gave in.  
  
Elizabeth turned over in her large bed, the sheets gently touching her soft skin, as she looked at the empty place her husband should occupy. On the day that she had declared her feelings towards Will in the presence of the two people that influenced her life most, she had stated unshakably that he was a pirate. Not a normal man, not a blacksmith, not bound by the rules and obligations that had haunted her for too long, but a pirate; the very living, breathing figure of freedom. To look at him now, she thought, you would never know he was once that free. Her father had begrudgingly accepted her choice for a husband, but had never conceded to give Elizabeth what she had longed for in the first place. If you can't beat them, join them. Or, in her father's case, if you can't beat them, force them to join you.  
  
Will was now a respectable, upstanding member of the Port Royal community. Not a pirate, or a blacksmith but a tradesman: a position far more worthy of a Governor's daughter's love than the former life he had occupied. Will was happy, he was surrounded by the ocean and able to love the woman that had always filled his mind and heart. Elizabeth, however, was not happy. Far from it, in fact. The smell of early morning drifted in through the window, bringing with it the smell that created memories of her childhood.  
  
When she was younger, everything around her, everything she was forced to do and be was a cage. A gilded cage, trapping her into a life of never- ending propriety and numbness. But as she grew, Elizabeth saw one light of freedom in her life, one person that could change everything. William Turner. When she had been forced into a continuing parade of lessons, parties and dinners, love was her freedom. Elizabeth was absolutely sure that she would never have the complete liberty that other women had to choose a husband. The men would be displayed in front of her, with her "choice" as to which one she wanted.  
  
Through all of it, though, Elizabeth loved Will. In her mind and quietly in her heart she created their love as if it had always existed. She knew that her father would never be able to touch her love if she never released it. So, silently, Elizabeth went on loving Will turner: a blacksmith and kind- hearted man, never telling him of the feelings she possessed. That was, of course, until one fateful adventure with pirates, cursed treasure and that damned monkey.  
  
Elizabeth twisted her golden wedding ring around her finger as she reminisced about her husband. No, he was no longer a pirate, no longer the freedom that she had imagined and longed for, for so long. As their marriage began and their relationship continued, Elizabeth discovered one thing. It wasn't Will she had been in love with all of those years ago; it was the freedom he had represented that had bewitched her so completely.  
  
And now, she had no new life free of parties, dinners, guests and obligations. She had the same life, only a new captor to close her cage. The graceful fingers that had twirled her ring a second ago, now gripped her ivory skin increasingly hard until she saw that the red finger marks would stay and the blood would leave a mark.  
  
Truthfully, she did like Will, but she didn't love him. He had promised her everything she had ever dreamed of by simply pressing his lips to hers, and then he had conformed to her father's ideal, shattering those promises and her affection. Elizabeth threw the ring across her room at the nearest wall and heard it clank to the ground with a satisfying sound. Her husband was still gone. He had left a week after their wedding. At sea, already gone for two months and not to return for several more yet. By that time, it would be obvious, she thought. He would see it and she would be forever chained to the house and the despised role as housewife. In one, little, helpless creature, her hope for freedom and life outside the bars of her life would be lost. Because of one, stupid decision that she didn't even get to make, all chance of escape would be lost.  
  
Forming her hand into a fist, Elizabeth brought it up and sharply back down into her abdomen with a powerful movement. Her mouth opened in pain and a low groan escaped, caused by the assault to herself. Elizabeth repeated the movements with a newfound strength, despite the feeling of hurt that it brought her. She would not let this child ruin her life and all of her dreams; she had to make sure it was gone before Will came home from his voyage. He would want it too much, and the soft pleading of his eyes might change her mind. As Elizabeth thought of Will, she stood and turned sideways to look in the mirror. She pulled the fabric around her mid- section taught behind her so that the slight bulge was obvious; it was still there, she thought. As she rose her fist to hit again, Elizabeth saw a face flash before her eyes. No, not a face; a pair of eyes. A pair of dark, deep brown eyes like her husband's, but not the same. Jack's eyes.  
  
Elizabeth gasped at the sight in her mind and the memory of that night as she fell to the tiled floor of her bedroom. Putting a pale, fragile hand on her abdomen, she thought about him. About the freedom that he represented, the freedom that enabled him to live and breathe as he did. The freedom that she so badly wanted for herself. The one thing that Will could not provide.  
  
Elizabeth thought of those dark, mysterious eyes. Stealing a quick glance at the pirate, she had originally thought his eyes resembled chocolate, dark and rich. After the night on the island, though, she knew his eyes were like wood. The multiple rings in the wood speaking of untold wisdom, stories that would frighten and excite her, people the likes of which she would never meet and of feelings she would never experience.  
  
She wondered if Jack would take her. If he would take her and her child far away from Port Royal and the captivity she so despised. No, she admonished herself, not Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow would never take a child on board, not even his own. A quick spark lit up her eyes as Elizabeth played that thought over and over in her head. Not even his own...maybe he would. She didn't know if it even could be his, but that could be easily remedied by the sugarcoated lies of a mother. Elizabeth twirled a strand of her sun-kissed hair around her finger as the thoughts swirled in her head. Her mind was brought back to the words so fresh from a dream in the early morning hours.  
  
"Wherever we want to go, we'll go, that's what a ship is, you know. It's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails that's what a ship needs but what a ship is.what the Black Pearl really is.is freedom."  
  
Elizabeth smiled as the last word rang in her head: Freedom.  
  
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Yes, yes I know. I'm evil and whatnot. Well, please if you have any thoughts on this or if it should be continued please tell me. Flames are just as welcome as any good comment. 


	2. Any New Surprise?

Disclaimer: I STILL don't own any of these characters or the lines from the movie or the movie. *humph* Now I'm incredibly depressed...I think I'll crawl in a corner and die now...  
  
A/N: OMG!!!!! Thank you soooo much to all you reviewers! I wasn't expecting to get more than one review (thanks pirate princess ; D ) but I got like eight! Wow!  
  
Catsb: Thanks. YAY! You were my first reviewer for this story. : )  
  
El Diablo Firestarter: Thank you. Whether the child is Jack's or not, is yet to be seen. In fact, I don't know yet!  
  
Punk_Rock_Princess: Thanks and hey, I'd love to write more! How convenient! : D  
  
lil Demon: Thank you so much, I feel loved.  
  
Beau Porteur De Diamant: LOL! Your puppy dog eyes may have failed but if you could get Johnny Depp to do it, I would write anything. And yes, I'm insinuating that something did happen on the island and maybe later on.... ; ) And THANK YOU so very much for putting me on your favs!  
  
Lady Mercury: I loved the chemistry there too, and I wasn't aware that there were so many J/E fans! Lucky me!  
  
pirate-princess: As always, Steph, thanks so much for your support and Ping- Pong wall quality. I'll try to get working on our story soon.....try being the key word there. MTFBWY!  
  
Shadow Phenix: Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! And...well...THANK YOU! Hehe...glad I surprised ya!  
  
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Elizabeth gasped as two warm, rough hands shook her shoulders in an attempt to wake her. Sitting up straight in shock, she immediately noticed that she was indeed still sitting on the tile floor she had laid down upon earlier. Looking up, Elizabeth saw the shocked face of the maid that had so rudely and suddenly awoken her.  
  
"Milady, are you all right? Why on earth were you sleeping on the floor; I thought something terrible had happened?" The young woman spoke quickly, as if there wasn't enough time to get the words out of her mouth. Elizabeth's hand moved unintentionally to her stomach as she slowly got up and tried to muster a genuine smile for the maid. The small, abnormal movement did not go unnoticed by the long time servant of Mrs. Elizabeth Swann Turner.  
  
"I'm perfectly fine, Meg, I just..." the words trailed off as Elizabeth tried desperately to convince her sleep-fogged brain to speak coherent sentences. Despite her effort, however, a logical explanation as to why she was lying on the floor at, it looked like it was near noon, and not in her comfortable bed or awake like she normally would be at this hour escaped her. "I'm fine. Thank you for your concern. I believe it is well past the time to be up and moving and I am not yet dressed." The maid drew her own attention back to Elizabeth as she spoke an affirmative. "Of course, milady."  
  
Elizabeth simply sat dazed on the edge of her bed, confusion and sleep still etched into her normally soft features as she forced herself to digest everything. Why had she woken up on the floor of her room? Elizabeth rubbed her temples tiredly as she watched the maid go through numerous dresses from the corner of her eye. Suddenly, those piercing obsidian eyes flashed into her vision again and pain struck quickly in her abdomen, causing a small moan to leave her soft lips. Meg turned around and was instantly at Elizabeth's side. She touched her arm softly and looked into her troubled eyes.  
  
"Ma'am, are you all right?" Seeing Elizabeth's hand, once again, on her stomach the maid eyed her somewhat suspiciously. Elizabeth just nodded weakly and smiled in reply lifting her head and turning to look at her wardrobe. "I think that I should wear blue dress today. The one with the white trim." She spoke softly, in an attempt to change the subject. "Yes, ma'am. Of course, the blue one would be lovely." Meg replied, standing up straight and returning to the task at hand.  
  
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Elizabeth took in a sharp breath as the woman behind her pulled the laces on her dress even tighter. The young maid had been standing there for near ten minutes, as far as Elizabeth could tell, and didn't seem to be finished yet. As the torture continued, Elizabeth's eyes began to wander, desperate for something interesting to focus on. In the new, bright light entering the room she saw a spark of light that contrasted strongly against the pale walls of her bedroom prison.  
  
Edging forward a little and looking carefully, Elizabeth saw that the shine had come from her earlier discarded, more like flung, wedding ring now lying on the cold floor. Staring at the ring and attempting to catch a breath, she remembered the day that Will had proposed. It was raining; the end of one of those random tropical storms with strong winds and pounding rain that are normally over as soon as they begin. Water hung heavily in the air as the storm ceased and the clouds broke open, revealing a gorgeous sunset. Elizabeth remembered how the orange and red in the sky had played stunningly off of Will's dark brown eyes.  
  
They were standing out on the pier, soaking wet from the unexpected shower when he kneeled down onto one knee. Will put his hand into his pocket, searching for the little ring box, then into another pocket and another as he struggled to find the precious object. He looked up in surprised as he saw Elizabeth holding out an open box to him, the same one that had panicked him so. Seeing his distress and precarious position, she had assumed what he was so quickly looking for and reached her hand into the coat that she was now wearing: his coat, given to her when the storm began. Will blushed slightly and smiled at her, kissing her hand and murmuring 'thank you', as he took the ring from her hand and turned it around to face her.  
  
"Elizabeth Sarah Swann" he began quietly, "I have loved you ever since my eyes first met yours the day you found me. And I love you more than ever today, as you found your own engagement ring for me. It seems I am destined to be in your care and would never have it any other way. Elizabeth, would you do me the honor of being my wife and finding me, my heart and anything else I may lose along the long way ahead of us?"  
  
As she looked down at the floor of their room, Elizabeth almost swore that she could see Will kneeling in front of her, placing the lovingly created ring on her finger. A swift tug of the laces imprisoning her, however, brought her out of the daydream, making Will disappear suddenly. "Margaret," Elizabeth spoke harshly, using the maid's full name, "are you quite done with that dress yet?" Meg pulled strongly again and attempted to tie the laces the same as always. "Almost done, milady. The dress just doesn't seem to...fit as it usually does." The last part of the sentence was spoken carefully, as if she was afraid of a backlash from her own words.  
  
"If it is not too bold to say, ma'am, when Mr. Turner returns, will you be expecting any new surprise?" The young woman said while finishing tying the dress and smoothing out the fabric carefully. Elizabeth took as deep a breath as the constricting dress allowed her and turned to face the source of such a blunt question. "Yes, Meg. A rather big surprise, actually." A light appeared in Meg's face as she took the answer to mean something completely different than Elizabeth was thinking.  
  
'Yes,' Elizabeth thought, 'I suppose it would be a large surprise to find that your wife has disappeared to join pirates.' Elizabeth smiled slyly as the maid quietly stepped out of the room and left her with her own thoughts, once again. "Rather large indeed." She finished, speaking out loud and turning to face the open window. "Now," she said, squirming to find a comfortable position in the newly laced dress and staring out onto the horizon, "where are you hiding, Jack Sparrow?"  
  
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Hmm....I'm not quite happy with this chapter, but I hope you are. Don't worry, the next chapter will actually move the story along somewhat...and draw in some more characters, hopefully. If you have any comments, once again, don't be afraid to review good or bad. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. 


	3. That's Interesting

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, nor am I making any money off of them. Yet ; )  
  
A/N: I'm a verrrry happy camper! On Saturday I went to Disneyland, considering I only live an hour and a half away from it. I went on my favorite ride (Pirates, of course) and it now seems pretty tame in comparison to the movie. I also got to see a POTC:TCOTBP display with many entertaining things. It had Jack's costume (which I wanted to take home, the boots looked like they could have almost fit me!) and the dress that Elizabeth wears to Norrington's promotion ceremony. There was the compass that doesn't point north, the Aztec gold pendant, Jack's sword and pistol, Barbosa's sword and pistol, Norrington's sword and Will's sword. There was also the figurehead outside (the wooden woman on the bow of the ship) and I tried to grab the "piece of cursed Aztec gold" that they told me would curse me (I was hoping Jack would have to come find it) but, unfortunately for me it was glued to the box. : ( All in all it was a lot of fun. I got a concept sketch of Jack Sparrow and got to see quite a convincing Jack impression from a seven-year-old. Enough of my gloating. THANKS TO ALL WHO REVIEWED!!!!!  
  
El Diablo Firestarter: I can't wait until Elizabeth meets up with Jack either! Oh wait, I'm supposed to be writing that, aren't I? *goes off and starts writing chapter* OH! I was reading your story for a while and I didn't even realize it! Update! Lol, I shouldn't be talking.  
  
Erinya: I actually didn't have that theory until I started writing the first chapter for this story and it just kind of wrote itself. And actually, I love your story I just don't review. I tend to be a bit of a lurker. Sorry. Glad you're enjoying it so far and thanks for the long review!  
  
Melissa: I'm in love with Johnny Depp too! Especially with the new poster I got of him. Talk about love, it's a three foot drawing of his head! And I'll tell ya what happens when I figure it out myself. : D  
  
Goth Princess: Thank You! I love writing it too! Isn't that just nice? ; )  
  
Beau Porteur De Diamant: Thank you! Although, sometimes it definitely doesn't feel like my writing flows to me. ; ) Well, I know who most people would like the father to be and I might just be happy to oblige. : )  
  
stitchedpillow: Thanks. And actually, I'm kind of curious of what's going to happen next. You see, the characters haven't told me yet. : D I seriously hope that the story goes somewhere interesting. Thanks again.  
  
Shadow Phenix: Don't worry, Jack is coming quite soon. In fact, I believe he is in this chapter. Isn't that just convenient? ; ) I hope, especially from my p.o.v, that this chapter is much more filling and has more of a point. LOL.  
  
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Skirts swished and tough boots hit cobblestone, creating the only sounds heard on the quite back-alley of the Port Royal street. Elizabeth pulled the soft material of her cloak closer around her face, attempting to submerge herself in the growing darkness of the evening. Dressed in simple clothes and slinking through crowded taverns, she had been trying futilely to discover any trace of the Black Pearl. Unfortunately for Elizabeth, it seemed that Jack did not want to be found.  
  
When first embarking on this mission and being forced to sneak out of her own house, the afternoon sun had shone brightly and strongly, trying to burn her through her comfortable cloak. Now it had sunk, defeated, under the line of the ocean and twilight descended upon the city. 'Several hours and absolutely no leads' Elizabeth thought dejectedly. 'No one knows where he is. Or where he's going.' The only thing that the drunken information givers had known was where he had been. They knew the stories and they told them well. Especially the most recent and by far, most exaggerated one. His run in with Barbosa and a crew of cursed miscreants. The one tale that she knew far too well.  
  
Thinking back on the not-so-long ago adventure, Elizabeth began to shiver ever so slightly in the warm night breeze. Wandering around aimlessly, she started to wonder whether what she was doing was even logical. A pregnant young woman running away from her husband and seemingly "happy" life to join pirates. Especially pirates like Jack Sparrow.  
  
Tears began to well up in her soft brown eyes as the thoughts of what she was attempting do sunk into an already exhausted and sleep deprived brain. Backing herself against the nearest wall, Elizabeth slid down it and put her head in her hands in an action of defeat. In a back alley in the streets of Port Royal, the tears began to flow freely, unhindered by any need to impress or hide.  
  
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Inside of a small room, the last dish in a long, high stack of similar objects was being dried off with a dingy rag creating a soft sound. Setting down the final dish on the stack of already cleaned ones, Mary Read dried off her callused hands and sighed, staring out the window into a back alley. She began to pull the sleeves of her soiled workshirt back down to her wrists. Buttoning one sleeve, she reached for the other only to stop when she heard a small, muffled noise outside in the street. Normally, she would have ignored the sound and kept to herself, but something pulled her outside of her door to investigate. Looking left, Mary saw nothing but a small tabby cat running away from her shadowy form as she stepped further out into the alley.  
  
Turning right, a small, shaking bundle of cloth became apparent in the fading lamplight. For some reason she couldn't explain, Mary was intrigued.  
  
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Elizabeth's body stiffened and she reached for her dagger as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the alley. But before she could even pull it out, a strong, yet gentle hand grabbed her arm, stopping the movement. Looking up only slightly, Elizabeth took a glance at the woman's exposed arm and drew a sharp breath in shock.  
  
"It's all right, dear. I'm not going to hurt you." A strong female voice spoke as both arms came down to encompass Elizabeth and pull her up to a standing position. As she stood up slowly on shaky feet, Elizabeth's hood fell down to her neck, but she didn't even care. Sea green eyes met hers as she took a long look at her unlikely friend. The woman's dirty- blonde hair fell into her face, blown slightly by the wind and she wore only an old work shirt and dark blue skirt.  
  
The strong arms slowly let go of her, allowing Elizabeth to stand on her own in the dark street. Suddenly, the long wandering of the day mixed with a fatigued brain and lack of food combined themselves against Elizabeth and she fell to the street. The last words that Elizabeth heard before she fainted echoed dully in her head.  
  
"I'm Mary."  
  
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After waking up and eating something small, the night had passed rather quickly for Elizabeth. Mary was a nice, almost middle-aged woman that apparently hadn't had much good company in a few years. Although the chat they shared was comforting, Elizabeth still hadn't mentioned what she had seen earlier on the woman's arm. Both sleeves were now pulled down, however, leaving Elizabeth to battle with her brain in a long silence as to whether her fatigued brain had simply created it. Curiosity, as they say, had gotten the cat. Biting her lip and silently making up her mind, Elizabeth raised her head to ask Mary a question.  
  
"I saw your arm earlier." An awkward silence prevailed in the room as they both waited for what was sure to come next. "You're a pirate, aren't you?" Elizabeth's eyes did not waver from the other woman's green ones as she awaited an answer. She didn't have to wait long. "I used to be. Not any more, though. Not for a long time." Mary slid her sleeve back up, exposing the "P" branded into her skin as she gazed at it thoughtfully. "I used to sail with the Black Pearl. Maybe you've heard of it. I'll bet you have." Mary looked back up at Elizabeth and gave her a half-grin. "But that was a long time ago. I left that life behind."  
  
Something sparked in Elizabeth's eyes as she looked at the tired woman speaking of her past. After a day of no answers and no leads, this was exactly what she needed. Silence once again penetrated the room, but not an awkward one this time. Not for Elizabeth anyway.  
  
"Could you take me to it?" Sea-green eyes flashed towards Elizabeth, searching for a hint of sarcasm or joking. She couldn't find one. "To the Pearl?" "Yes, I need to find Jack Sparrow." "You need to find Jack? Well...I'll tell ya. That may not be too easy. When Jack wants not to be found, he can't be found." Elizabeth's voice remained firm and strong. "I'll find him. Make no mistake of that." Pulling a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, Mary smiled genuinely at the young, determined woman before her. "Meet me here tomorrow. Before dawn." Mary stood up, and watched as Elizabeth disappeared into the night while mumbling to herself.  
  
"Jack's always in need of a good surprise."  
  
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Elizabeth stepped off of the small ship warily, turning behind her for a sign of the woman who brought her here. She saw none and turned back to Tortuga, taking a deep breath. "Don't worry Mary, I'll surprise him." Softly touching her dagger through the thin material of her most comfortable dress, Elizabeth gripped her sack of belongings and started walking. "If I can find him, that is."  
  
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Stopping on the corner of a busy street, Elizabeth reached down to rub her tired feet. She had been walking the whole day, in search of any hint of Jack Sparrow being in Tortuga, but had found nothing but multiple whores and drunks. If Elizabeth had been contemplating the foolishness of her decision before, she was now believing it whole-heartedly. Placing her sack on the cobblestone and pulling the hood of her cloak down to expose her head; Elizabeth bit her lower lip. The sun was disappearing, she needed a place to stay, something to eat and soon. Soon it would no longer be safe for a woman like her to wander the streets alone. With a small laugh, Elizabeth realized that technically, it wasn't even safe for her to wander the streets alone now. If only Will were here...or Jack. Breaking her thought process, a large, drunken man wandered over towards her and placed his hand on the wall next to her.  
  
"Whattya say ta joinin' me an me friends tonight for a li'l bit o' fun, eh?" The man slurred, reaching towards her chest with a not-so-clean hand. Elizabeth flinched away, attempting to grab her dagger from her bodice. "Don' worry miss, I pay well." He continued, pulling her roughly towards him and kissing her forcefully. Elizabeth's face turned to a look of utter disgust and she turned to the side, gagging. Once again, she reached for the dagger, but was unable to because of the forceful angle the greasy man had over her.  
  
"What do you think I am, some common street whore?!" She spat at him, struggling to escape. "Get away from me!" The man's dirty hand reached down into her bodice causing a louder scream from Elizabeth. Realizing that fighting back wouldn't work, she tried a new approach.  
  
"Well, I was feeling lonely..." she started, in a sickly sweet voice.  
  
Pulling his hand up to her mouth, giving him false hope, Elizabeth put his finger into her mouth and distracted the man, biting down as hard as she could, drawing blood. Shrieking with pain and anger, the disgusting man pulled his hand back to hit her but was stopped by a hand on his own.  
  
"You don't want ta be doin' that mate." An all too familiar voice spoke from behind the man before hitting him over the head with the butt of a pistol. The horrible man falling to the street, Elizabeth saw the pirate standing behind him and her mouth hung open in shock.  
  
Jack Sparrow smiled back at her and put his pistol back where it belonged, offering her a hand. "Well tha's interesting. That's very interesting. Imagine me meeting up with Elizabeth Swann, especially in such a place as this. To what do I owe the honor, Ms. Swann." Jack stopped for a minute and his dark eyes met hers. "Or is it Mrs. Turner now?" Blinking herself out of her shock, Elizabeth gave him her most proud look. "Mrs. Turner. It has been for several months now."  
  
Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat as Jack's lips came down softly to meet her hand. "Aye, then. Mrs. Turner it is. And where is dear Mr. Turner?" Elizabeth pulled her hand away quickly from Jack as her thoughts were brought back to Will. She picked up her sack and looked Jack back in the eye.  
  
"Captain Sparrow." She spoke firmly, back to her old sense of propriety despite the feelings in her heart for the man in front of her. "I have a proposition for you."  
  
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A/N: WEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! Jack was fun to write I should do it more often. Oh, Mary Read is the property of Disney, even though they didn't use her in the ride. She was originally supposed to be in the ride with Anne Bonny, as a female pirate, but they decided not to. Stupid Disney peoples. That ride is in need of female pirates! Anyway. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. Review if you like; a happy one or unhappy one. Any feedback is appreciated. 


	4. The Proposition

Disclaimer: I only pretend to own the characters I use and write, but unfortunately for me, Disney owns them. (Even if they do refuse to use them!) But a girl can dream I suppose. *Starts to day-dream about Jack*  
  
A/N: Spiffy! Two updates relatively near each other. I'm almost proud of myself, especially after I wrote another chapter for a different story last night. Thanks for the great reviews I have received, it was a lot of fun writing Jack.  
  
Pam: Thanks, I was planning to. As long as school doesn't get in the way. ; )  
  
El Diablo Firestarter: Yes, well. Elizabeth is a strong character but when faced with someone that big and creepy she needed a little bit of help. Lucky for me, Jack was the right person for the job.  
  
Leila5: Thanks very much! Keep reviewing!  
  
SparrowSavvy: Good thing for you I'm updating somewhat quickly then. : ) Thanks!  
  
Erinya: I know! I was rather bitter and my mother had to calm me down in line for the ride. ; ) But I think that if they aren't using them, I have every right to myself!  
  
pirate-princess: Hehehe! Puppy dog eyes! *falls into trance and starts typing what Steph tells me to type* Umm......wow! That works surprisingly well. *in monotone voice* yes...I will write more! LOL! Love ya Steph!  
  
Beau Porteur De Diamant: Hey! You can review as many times as you want it doesn't bother me. ; D Thanks, I really liked it too.  
  
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The pool of golden liquid contained in the mug in front of Elizabeth shook slightly as she gripped the tabletop with her fingers, turning her fingers white. Despite all of the loose women and drunken men surrounding her, she was extremely tense and her body motions showed it; lucky for Elizabeth, Jack wasn't looking at her. His attention seemed to be drawn towards one of the many barmaids "serving" the multiple customers of the tavern. Turning back to her however, he did notice, first of all, that she hadn't touched one bit of the rum that HE had bought to accompany their little conversation. Pulled out of her nervous thoughts, she saw Jack move from the corner of her eye. Following his line of sight, Elizabeth looked up and smiled sweetly.  
  
"You can have it if you want. I think I'd prefer to discuss business in a sober state of mind." Elizabeth didn't admit her true thoughts that if she had a drink of the substance on the table, it probably wouldn't stay in her very long. Because of emotions or otherwise, she hadn't been able to keep anything down lately. Jack smiled in return to her offer and reached over to slide the mug closer to him after downing the last drops of his own.  
  
"Ah, yes. Your 'proposition'. And what, exactly, might this li'l proposition consist of?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow and un-latched her fingers from their gripping position on the table as she collected herself and prepared to speak. No matter what she was internally feeling, she had to keep a cool exterior.  
  
'Regardless of how this conversation turns out' she thought, 'I'm not going back to Port Royal alone. And there's always time to do more "convincing" on the return trip. Just play the scared and demure card.' Elizabeth leaned in closer across the table to Jack, placing her chin on one carefully placed hand. She watched with determined eyes as Jack brought the mug to his lips and started drinking out of it.  
  
"Passage. On the Black Pearl, Captain Sparrow." The word "captain" was stressed; Elizabeth not wishing for Jack to interrupt her little speech with the proper way his name should be spoken. Jack, having already taken a drink of his rum, spit it out promptly at the word 'passage' and continued to cough at the words following it. Wiping his mouth with his shirtsleeve, Jack leaned in closer to Elizabeth, the smell of liquor strong on his breath.  
  
"The Black Pearl, is not a passenger ship, luv. I won't be ferrying you around the Caribbean jus' because I've had the "honor" of your acquaintance before." He paused, thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. It was obvious that their former meetings would gain her no advantage. Everyone was squared.  
  
"Why don't you simply ask daddy. I'm sure the Governor would be more than compliant in helpin' you get wherever it is you're going. Or perhaps Will could help you as he's probably been dragged, kicking and screaming into proper society by now."  
  
Elizabeth's expression barely changed, as she had prepared herself for this likely reaction, but something strong flashed in her eyes for a brief moment. She wasn't going to give up that easily.  
  
"JACK, Will won't be helping me in this little venture, nor will my father. I'm not asking for a little trip on you boat, I want a place on the Pearl just like the rest of the crew. I won't be a passenger." Jack's eyebrows shot up as he listened to Elizabeth and in the long silence following, he took several more swigs of rum. He chuckled and shook his head at her, once again leaning close.  
  
"Wha' makes you think that you could make it on my ship?"  
  
"I've been on the Pearl before. And that's not the only ship I've been on. I can hold my own."  
  
"Yes, luv. But then you were a prisoner or passenger, never one of me crew."  
  
"I can do it. If Anamaria can, I can."  
  
"Wha's in it for me?"  
  
The question hung heavily in the air as Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, attempting to look at ease and un-concerned. She had been prepared and the conversation was still going her way. Elizabeth knew she was going to win this one and nerves began to calm.  
  
"Clemency. For you, and your crew."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Port Royal."  
  
"Only?"  
  
Elizabeth grimaced inwardly for a moment at the question. Not what she had prepared for and not good.  
  
"Only."  
  
Now Jack leaned away from the table, balancing precariously on two legs of his chair pushing off from the table and falling back. Pushing off and falling back.  
  
"Sorry, luv. That won't cut it. There innit that much reason to be going there often and thus, not much to be gained by that clemency you're offerin'. Nice chat however. Hope ta see you soon. Maybe the next raid of Port Royal?"  
  
Standing up out of his chair, Jack began to walk away towards the door and Elizabeth jumped up, panicked. She needed something else to offer and quickly. Her brain searched all her possessions and connections, looking for something the pirate would want. The next words were out of her mouth before she could even think about them.  
  
"A ship." Jack turned around in response to her statement and looked at her questioningly. "A ship." She repeated, sitting back down at the small, dirty table. Once again, the ball was in his court and she was winning.  
  
Jack returned to his own seat, also and put his foot up on the table, relaxing in his chair. "Now, you're speakin' my language. What ship?"  
  
Elizabeth stared blankly at the wall for a moment, her mind and pulse racing. Why did she offer a ship? She didn't have a ship. She didn't have anything remotely near a ship. She didn't...but Will did. In fact, Elizabeth thought, her mouth drawing up into a smile, Will had several. Her mind wandered through his four ships and stopped promptly on the one that he wasn't using in the latest business task of his.  
  
"The Horizon. It's smaller than the Pearl, but fast like the Interceptor. It's not even two years old. I could sail it...or Anamaria could. She could teach me how and you," Elizabeth punctuated, pointing at Jack. "would be Commodore Jack Sparrow." A feeling of calm and pleasure settled over Elizabeth as she realized her scattered and random offer had actually pulled through. She had Jack's attention and freedom was just around the bend.  
  
A small gleam appeared in Jack's dark eyes as he contemplated the deal presented to him. She certainly did drive a hard bargain. Jack took his foot off of the small table, causing it to rock slightly and he sat up straight, looking Elizabeth in the eye.  
  
"Ana will teach you. And you." He pointed at Elizabeth, mocking what she had just done to him, "will be a cooperative student. You will get no special treatment and will follow MY orders like everyone else." He placed his hand out in front of her in a hand shake gesture. "Do we have an accord?" Elizabeth placed her small hand in his and shook it firmly. "We do."  
  
As Jack and Elizabeth walked towards the Pearl, early in the cool morning, Elizabeth's felt like she was flying. Anamaria would get a ship, Jack would be a Commodore and she would be free to do whatever she pleased. Free of the strings that had tied her down for so long. Rid of propriety and all the things that came with it. The last stars in the morning sky reflected in Elizabeth's eyes as she looked out at the ocean.  
  
Finally: Freedom.  
  
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Another chapter down, many more to go. Hope it is enjoyed by all and makes sense. Sense would be good. Review, as always. Flames and constructive criticism are appreciated the same as good, happy reviews. 


	5. The Dream

Disclaimer: For the last (okay not last, I wish!) time...I don't own any of these characters! They're not mine! I don't own them! I'm not making money! So why are the Disney people still hounding me?! Okay, fine. Maybe they aren't hounding me. Maybe it's just 3:47 in the morning and I've been playing solitaire for an hour straight. You never know.  
  
A/N: Good thing I'm getting these chapters done relatively quickly before school starts. Although, technically, I should be working on reading "Watership Down" and writing that report before the second... stupid school people! I don't want Honors Algebra 2 for first period, you can't make me go! Jack will save me! *looks around at Disney people still hounding her* um....nevermind, I'll save myself. Hmm....too much mocha frappuchino for me I think. Anyway...on with the story!  
  
A/N 2: Never mind, I lied. If you're actually reading this, you have to suffer through another author's note before you can read. In response to the comments I received about Elizabeth not telling Jack about the pregnancy or that it is his...I thought that if she told him then he would either refuse to take her at all or he would dump her off at Port Royal and tell to go back to her husband like a good little girl. That was my reasoning, hope you understand. Don't worry, when that scene comes I'll write it to the best of my abilities.  
  
Beau Porteur De Diamant: Don't worry, she still is and well...I didn't think that she should tell him yet, but trust me, she will. Just call it writer's intuition. ;)  
  
pirate-princess: Steph, if you give me Johnny, I will give you anything you want and the plot bunnies can have their free reign of my stories. Hehe...don't worry, I'll write more. *muahahahahahaha!!* Hope you liked your sneak preview of the chapter!  
  
stitchedpillow: Yeah, apparently fanfiction.net hasn't been cooperating lately, but that's all right. I'll be happy with the thought that you did write a long review for me. : D Thanks, and just for you, they do indeed get to talk some more in this chapter. Aren't you special?  
  
Erinya: Well, it seems like everyone's Jack is slightly different. That character seems (to me at least) to be rather hard to write. I just have to imagine Jack saying the lines. And I like your Jack just fine, especially when he is his scoundrel self. *swoons*  
  
lil_blondie: Thanks very much. I can tell you that retrieving the ship definitely won't be what they expect. *hint hint* And actually the name of the ship, Horizon, is the name of my school so maybe I should have something evil happen to it. Thanks again.  
  
Shadow Phenix: I think we need to get a group of readers and writers together to attack FF.N and tell it to cooperate. Anyone with me? *crickets chirping* never mind then. Thanks allot, I liked writing it too. However, I like this chapter even better. Yes, yes she is. I think the character was slightly affected when I was watching the "Cell Block Tango" from Chicago while typing. And I imagine it should be interesting getting that ship. : D  
  
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Slow, gentle rocking of the Pearl on the calm sea forced Elizabeth to concentrate hard on following Jack's footsteps without falling over or falling into him. It would take some time before she would get her sea legs back, she knew, especially with the new "complication" to her life intent on changing her center of gravity.  
  
It would be hard while they were sailing to convince Jack that she was in no way ill or physically different than the last time he had seen her. Logic told her that she had to wait until they were well past Port Royal to tell him about the baby, or Elizabeth knew she would never see the open ocean again aboard the deck of the Black Pearl. If Jack knew that she was pregnant, he would take her back to Will and back to the one place she was struggling to leave behind.  
  
Stumbling to catch her balance as she walked to the place she was to sleep, one hand went to the railing to steady her and the other hand went instinctively to her stomach, protecting the life inside. Hearing the irregular sound in the footsteps following him, Jack turned to look at Elizabeth.  
  
For a moment he looked as if he was going to reach his arm out to help her up, but instead simply gave her a look asking if they could go on. Elizabeth nodded in silent agreement and bit her lip nervously as Jack began to slow and turn towards a door on the starboard side of the ship, opening it carefully for her.  
  
The "room", if that was what you could call it, was small; little more than a broom closet with a small bunk against one wall and a chair against the other. Jack stepped inside the doorway only a little, allowing Elizabeth the full amount of space that the tiny room could offer.  
  
"I hope this will be sufficient for now, Mrs. Turner." Jack said properly and with slight sarcasm in his voice. "Seeing as me crew fills up every other bunk or you'd be down there with all o' them. It doesn't seem to phase Anamaria much, sleeping with a bunch o' smelly men and you agreed to no special treatment." Jack leaned against the doorframe comfortably, waiting for, but not really needing Elizabeth's approval of the space. She however, only nodded and smiled weakly before Jack nodded back a 'goodnight' and left her alone in her little broom closet.  
  
Elizabeth gave the compact area a once over before tiredly laying herself out on the bunk against the wall. The small sack of belongings that had followed her onto the ship was now resting on the chair against the opposite wall. She leaned back onto the small, worn pillow and closed her eyes, trying to ease the rocking of her stomach. Even with the calm state of the seas, she didn't feel up to dealing with the response that her stomach was giving her. Looking down upon her old, comfortable dress Elizabeth softly laid a hand on her abdomen and sighed, contemplating the change one little being had already wrought in her life.  
  
The child of hers and...well, she didn't know who else. A sad state for a woman of good breeding and high social stature, but so be it. Elizabeth rubbed her temples with long, aching fingers as she realized that she if she even had her choice of the father; she wouldn't be able to make it. Although, in one way she realized that she had already made her choice. Jack would be the father of her child, no matter what the harsh reality proved itself to be.  
  
Sinking down into the soft and well-used mattress, the hand resting on her stomach began to caress the child beneath as images appeared sharply in Elizabeth's emotionally drained mind.  
  
She saw those dark eyes, so often full of sarcasm, strength and danger now softened in laughter, reflecting the image of a small child resting in his arms. She saw the strong arms of a weathered pirate swinging around a little girl in a pink dress, and laughing with joy at the expressions of fear and happiness on the child's face. She saw a man who she assumed had never loved a woman completely, holding her in his arms as they watched their child sleep and sat under the light of the stars.  
  
But overall, she saw happiness. It was as that sweet happiness took over her brain that Elizabeth fell into a deep, sorely needed sleep.  
  
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Candlelight flickered in the small room, creating dancing shadows on the wall of the two people standing in the room. Elizabeth couldn't see Jack behind her, but she knew he was there. She didn't know how, but instinctively, she knew. Shivering slightly as a cool, very un-Caribbean like breeze blew in through the-well... the only opening to the room, the door, was closed tightly leaving a curiosity lingering in Elizabeth's head as to where exactly that breeze was coming from.  
  
As she pondered this momentarily, she felt a warm, heavy fabric rest on her shoulders and looked down to see that it was Jack's coat. Breathing in the warm, spicy scent of the man, she relished in the warmth that the garment offered. Without looking or touching, Elizabeth could feel that the collar was upturned, providing even more heat for her shaking form. Soft brown eyes lingered around the sparsely lit and decorated room, only finding walls of dark wood and not the comfort of dark eyes she searched for.  
  
Suddenly, the feeling of the jacket resting on her shoulders changed from warm, dry and comforting to an eerie, damp sort of warm. Turning around to gaze into the full-length mirror unexpectedly appearing behind her, Elizabeth gasped at the reflection that met her frightened eyes.  
  
She saw herself, wrapped in Jack's coat like she had known she was but now the collar had fallen. With a twinge of horror, she noticed that it had left a line of blood where, upturned, it had touched her cheek. Looking at the garment she wore, it became obvious that, when it had previously been a worn dark blue, it was now a deep crimson red. Jack's coat was saturated in blood and it was dripping onto her. Elizabeth fought a scream that was trying to find it's way out of her soft, pink lips.  
  
Slowly, the candlelight in the room grew dimmer and dimmer until it was almost completely dark. The last thing that Elizabeth saw before the darkness encompassed her was the figure of Will Turner standing behind her.  
  
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The fragile wooden door to her quarters opened loudly, hitting the wall next to it and awakening Elizabeth rather suddenly. Standing in the early morning starlight was the strong figure of Jack, a bottle in his hand, searching the pitch-black room. He walked over slowly and quietly, not aware that she was already awake and lit the lone candle on a shelf next to her bed, giving the room a soft glow. He then turned to look at Elizabeth and noticing she was already awake, moved her belongings and sat on the single chair facing her bunk. His voice sounded quiet, almost raspy and somehow calming to Elizabeth's ears.  
  
"You were making a lot of noise in yer sleep. Thought I'd wake you up 'fore you woke the rest of the crew up. Don't want a mutiny on my hands." Jack paused and took a drink out of the bottle he was carrying before he finished his sentence. "Again." Elizabeth stared at Jack with a confused, sleep fogged look in her eyes. She was about to refute the fact that she had been "making a lot of noise" when she was stopped by the wet, salty trails of tears on her face and the single sheet, formerly on her body, thrashed onto the floor. Seeing the broken look in her eyes, Jack sighed and gestured towards her with the bottle still in his hand.  
  
"Anythin' a bit o' rum wouldn't fix?" When Elizabeth shook her head no and pushed his hand away gently, Jack just shrugged his shoulders in response. "Your loss, then." There was an almost comforting silence for several moments where all that was heard was the roll of the waves against the ship and the soft lull of the Caribbean. Jack looked down into the bottle and swished it around longingly, seeing in the golden liquid the memories of things long past.  
  
"Ya never did like the stuff much, though did ye?" When no response from Elizabeth could be provoked by the rum comment, Jack continued. "Like that night on the island. I suspect that you never did drink much. That was quite a fun night though, eh luv?" Jack looked up into her eyes, one eyebrow raised in question. At the mention of their night together on the deserted island, Elizabeth squirmed and her eyes became cold.  
  
"Captain Sparrow, thank you for your concern but your presence in my room is no longer necessary. I'm perfectly fine." The tone in her voice was unmistakable and Jack suspected that if he didn't leave quickly, a slap would be awaiting him. Captain or no Captain, violence from angry young women still stung and he was eager to avoid it.  
  
"My mistake, then. I know the feeling of missin' a loved one and thought you might need something. I know when I lost the Pearl, rum was me friend more than anythin', just wanted to offer the same courtesy. Ta." Jack stood up and began walking towards the door, stopping to take a quick swig of rum and then continuing. His hand froze on the doorknob, however by the echo of one word. One word spoken with pain and sorrow, but also with a deep longing that he couldn't even begin to fathom.  
  
"Jack." He changed his momentum so that in one fluid movement, Jack was turned to face her and less than a foot away. Even in the soft light, he could see the tears falling from her eyes onto the weathered mattress beneath her. He sat down carefully on the end of the bunk and seeing no reaction from Elizabeth, moved slightly closer to her trembling form. She began sobbing, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes as Jack wrapped one arm around her shoulders in a gesture of comfort.  
  
"It'll be all right." He quietly tried to quiet her. "I'm sure dear Mr. Turner'll be fine, he knows how ta take care of himself. Got pirate in his blood. You don't have ta worry." Elizabeth pulled away from his warm embrace for a moment and looked up into his warm eyes, swallowing the fear in her throat.  
  
"I'm not worried about Will, Jack. I left him." The sentence hung in the air, needing no further explanation or reaction as Elizabeth drew her head onto Jack's shoulder and cried softly into his shirt. "I left him." She whispered weakly, this realization bringing a fresh group of tears to her eyes as Jack murmured comfortingly into her hair.  
  
She placed both of her hands on her slightly swollen stomach, unaware of the look of curiosity that the simple motion had caused on Jack's face. Reaching down carefully, he placed his warm callused hand on top of hers and stared towards the wall.  
  
"You don't have ta worry."  
  
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That was kind of a weird chapter, but I like it allot. And that dream that Elizabeth had was actually a dream that I had two days ago (with me in her place, obviously) and it just seemed like something to go in a fanfic. I'm not sure if Jack was in character, so please tell me. Hope you enjoyed and please review. Good or bad, they're all great! 


	6. Stealing the Horizon

Disclaimer: I don't own, only use to reckless purpose, the characters from the movie. Disney owns them. (Just like they own everything else. *grumble*)  
  
A/N: I particularly like last chapter, even though at first there weren't many reviews to be found. People came through for me in the end, though. However, it was kind of weird b/c I changed some things around in the chapter and only after I posted it did I realize that I wrote things I didn't want to give away yet or hadn't consciously thought of. The characters are taking over and might I say that they're doing a mighty fine job!  
  
A/N 2: Just a little piece of advice for anyone who's reading this: don't leave your sword propped up against a wall. It will inevitably become angry and fall onto your foot. *Mutters under breath and rubs sore, bloody foot* trust me, I know.  
  
El Diablo Firestarter: Thanks a bunch. I really like that chapter allot, too! Hopefully the rest will be just as good.  
  
Shadow Phenix: It was kind of a creepy dream and when I woke up, my room was dark except for my candles and number 2 on the CD (a.k.a. Jack's theme) was playing. I think I'd prefer my dream to a dream about the end of the world, at least mine had Jack in it. ;) Yes, I believe Jack knows now or has a pretty good idea, anyway. Both that and the "foreshadowing" weren't planned for me to write in that way. They kind of wrote themselves. Thanks for the pointer about Jack's speech. Now that I think about it, he never did really say 'ye' did he? Thanks.  
  
WolviesLover: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I was hoping that the tenderness aspect would actually fit in with the character and I'm glad that it worked. At first, I didn't think I could pull it off. Thanks again and keep reading. : D  
  
Beau Porteur De Diamant: Thanks once again, hope that your moving went well.  
  
pirate-princess: Glad you like it Steph and thanks for the continuous help. I still haven't figured out the ending, so you're gonna have to help me. ; )  
  
Jordan: Yes, I am the evil queen of cliffhangers. Glad you remembered. ; D Hehehe. I'm happy that you REALLY (x20) like the story. Sorry you're confused, I'll try to explain later and thanks for the constructive criticism. Love ya!  
  
Elfhead: Thanks, and I don't know if she's gonna tell him or if it will be something else...guess we'll all find out together. Hmm....chocolat weenies? Could be interesting. Bring it on! LOL.  
  
stitchedpillow: *Gasps from force of hug and then returns it* You should feel special, you gave me the inspiration for that little talk. I agree, "Yay! Jack and Elizabeth!"  
  
VillageShaman: That's all right, Wes. Thanks for the review, you just made it 39 I think.  
  
THANKS TO ALL REVIEWERS!!!!!! And I'm sorry if anyone reviewed after I wrote this all up. Love you all!  
  
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Jack watched numbly as a gull flew gracefully overhead, signaling the ship's quickening pace towards Port Royal. Even as his eyes followed the bird, his mind was not with it; his mind was lingering on thoughts of a certain woman, one of two on his ship and the only one that hadn't yet slapped him. Yet, being the key word.  
  
His mind wandered back to a few nights before, the first night Elizabeth was on the Black Pearl and his sharp eyes mirrored the memory of the flickering candlelight that had provided sparse illumination to the ship's newest crew member. Something was different about her that night and not exclusively that night, something had been different ever since he had met up with her again. It was in her voice, the way she walked, the way she carried herself and most of all, her eyes. Jack knew what it was. He was fairly sure, at least.  
  
Elizabeth had been following him around for the past few days at sea, in an attempt to learn the ropes, both literally and figuratively. By now she was wearing clothes lent to her by Anamaria, not the dresses that she had favored ever since they had first encountered each other in the oceans of Jamaica, the same oceans in which they now sailed. Jack smiled, gold teeth glinting in the sunlight as he saw Elizabeth attempting to help Ana tie several knots and learn the different terms for everything she was using. Elizabeth wasn't acting aloof or trying to go back on her agreement: she was acting like a pirate.  
  
The smile faded from Jack's tanned face, as he knew that what he had to do to her would hurt both of them that much more because of that fact. But, after contemplating and regretting, guilt and genius Jack knew that what he was going to do was the right thing. After all, she was only still a child really, no more than twenty. She was scared and lonely, running away from her husband and carrying with her, his child. It was only right that he return her to Port Royal and the home that she should be occupying. The strong sea breeze blew on Jack's face as he once again fell into deep currents of thought.  
  
It was only right.  
  
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A tense silence filled the air of the small rowboat and the only sounds that could be heard were the water lapping against the side and the oar rubbing the wood below it. Jack and Elizabeth sat alone in the boat, making slow progress in moving from the place that they had chosen to hide the Pearl and the docks of Port Royal.  
  
With a dreamy apprehension Elizabeth remembered the first time she had encountered the Pearl in that same hidden Jamaican bay. The cool night breeze had blown softly, providing just enough force to make the heavy skirts of her dress rustle. Moonlight had shone down on Jack, softening his face in the fire light, revealing an entirely different Captain than the one she had been trapped on the island with. His lips had brushed her skin so softly, he was like a ghost. That had been the night that...  
  
The feeling of Jack's hand on her own brought Elizabeth out of her daydreaming. He jerked his head in the direction of the dock, signaling that they were getting very close. Her heart starting beating faster with each stroke of the oars in the water. They were returning to Port Royal, where Jack was a wanted man and she was a missing woman. If they were found, there would be no turning back and no way out. Elizabeth shivered involuntarily under the bright moonlight, her own thoughts scaring her more than any reality.  
  
She was going to steal a ship. She was going to steal a ship for a pirate. Not just any pirate mind you, but Captain Jack Sparrow. She was going to steal her husband's ship for Captain Jack Sparrow. And the strangest part, Elizabeth realized, was that there was no trace of guilt in her mind, whatsoever for what she was about to do.  
  
Jack set the oars down on the floor of the rowboat after quickly tying it up to the dock. He stepped out first onto the dock and put his hand out to help Elizabeth in an overexaggerated flourish.  
  
"Milady." He spoke sarcastically when she took his hand and with the other, she pulled a stray piece of hair behind her ear. They both stood that way on the dock for a few heart-stopping moments until, with an awkward realization, Elizabeth pulled her hand away from Jack's. Straightening her shirt, her brown eyes searched quietly for the one ship they had come back for. Finding the single word, "Horizon" painted onto a small, but well kept ship she turned back to Jack who was gazing at her with an expectant look.  
  
"As much as I'd like to stand out here in the moonlight for all eternity, losing myself in your eyes, Mrs. Tur- Ms. Swann..."  
  
"Elizabeth; Jack. Please." She sighed and nervously rubbed the worn fabric of her shirt between her fingers. "Just call me Elizabeth."  
  
"Liz?" He quirked an eyebrow hopefully and Elizabeth simply shook her head no.  
  
"Elizabeth."  
  
"Elizabeth it is then. Now, Elizabeth, as I was saying. It would be simply splendid ta stay out here with you all night, however, we have a ship to commandeer."  
  
"You mean steal." Elizabeth interrupted, her voice taking on a sharp yet weary tone as she thought of what she had promised to do.  
  
"No. Commandeer, nautical term. Sounds better." There was a pause in the conversation and both waited for the other to continue or question. Jack picked up the cue. "Where migh' your little ship be?"  
  
Elizabeth gestured toward her husband's ship and with one last, silent look of apprehension they started off.  
  
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Will Turner watched through a darkening sunset as the silhouette of Port Royal, Jamaica became increasingly closer to his ship. The sight was incredibly welcome to the young man, filling him with a warm feeling and putting a smile on his face. He had been gone on the sea for a little over two months, leaving his new wife at home on her own. Will had felt increasingly guilty in the time that he had been absent from Elizabeth and after two months, it had reached a point where he just had to see her again and hold her in his arms. The smile on his face only grew as he thought of the look that he would see on Elizabeth's face when he appeared unexpectedly.  
  
His heart fell, however, when he realized that he wouldn't be able to see her as soon as he came into port. There were things that had to be done first, things connecting to his recent job change that would have to keep him from her arms for just a little while. Will thought of the ship that he had left behind and hoped that the Horizon would still be sea-worthy by the time he got to it.  
  
Focusing his gaze once again on the shore of Port Royal, he saw the familiar form of Commodore Norrington standing, apparently waiting for his ship. A confused look clouded Will's eyes as he contemplated the possible meaning of the unexpected visit. As he stepped off of his ship onto the dock, the sky now dark and lit only by stars and moonlight, he stood face to face with Norrington.  
  
"Mr. Turner." The man spoke with lack of any emotion, failing to address Will by his proper title or any title at all. "I need to speak with you. I'm afraid something has come up."  
  
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Jack and Elizabeth crept silently onto the Horizon, wary of the watch of any unseen guards, even at the late time of night. Elizabeth was sure if a problem arose, she could talk her way out of it, considering it was her husband's ship but she was reluctant to do so, not wanting to be discovered any more than Jack did. Jack took a quick look around and motioned for Elizabeth to accompany him below deck. Following submissively, she bit her lower lip in anxiety as her muscles tensed. The two shadows disappeared quietly into the darkness, climbing down the fairly steep ladder.  
  
It took all of Jack's hard-earned experience to keep his pulse steady and movements under control as they climbed below deck. Jack knew that he had to leave Elizabeth in Port Royal, that after hours of thinking he had come to the conclusion that it was the only logical thing to do. But even the simple logic didn't make it any easier to calm his racing thoughts and quell the guilt that was currently rising.  
  
He stood, seemingly watching himself from somewhere above his own form, detached from reality and the project he should be focused on. Jack shook his mind out of it's fog of thoughts as he saw Elizabeth move in front of him and open the door to the Captain's quarters, walking in. His muscles twitched; ready for action as Jack realized it was time to put his plan into action.  
  
Appearing at first as if he was going to follow her into the room, Jack froze, took a step back and closed the door behind Elizabeth. Holding the door shut with his body weight, Jack looked around frantically for anything to jam the handle with. Finding a chair close the wall next to him, Jack grabbed for it but frowned as he pulled hard and realized that it was bolted to the floor.  
  
At the moment, he had the advantage, as Elizabeth probably hadn't realized that anything out of the pre-arranged plan was occurring. Soon, however, she would notice that she was stuck in the room without Jack and the pieces would fall into place. The pirate cringed, as he knew it wouldn't be long until he would have to explain himself, Elizabeth was a smart girl and he wouldn't be able to hold her prisoner much longer. His well-controlled pulse began to race as his plan started to uncoil in front of his eyes.  
  
It was then that Jack heard two very familiar voices above his head.  
  
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Will stood on the deck of the Horizon, looking irritated and needing sleep, Norrington standing close to him. The commodore hadn't yet told him what was so urgent that his return home and business proceedings had to be interrupted, and at the moment they were simply making small talk.  
  
"Part of the hull is weak, and could easily be punctured, so it's been tied up here since it came into my possession." Will responded to Norrington's question, looking around perturbed at the ship he was standing on.  
  
"A shame, a fine ship such as this should be in use." Norrington offered, smiling politely.  
  
"Well, if all goes well, it should be soon. They informed me that they would be fixing it while I was gone." Will returned the polite, restricted smile, turning to face Norrington. "However, I have a feeling that you did not follow me out to my ship late at night just to talk about the small problems in my life. How can I help you Commodore?"  
  
Norrington grimaced only slightly and looked out at the gleam of the moon on the dark Caribbean water. "It's about your wife."  
  
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Every muscle tensed and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as Jack identified the two voices above him. Norrington and Will. His grip on the handle of the door loosened as every instinct in his body told him to run and run fast. Screams from the inside of the cabin thawed the frozen state of his brain, and he quickly opened the door, almost getting hit by Elizabeth's pounding fists in the process.  
  
Clamping a hand over her mouth to quiet her, Jack gestured with his head to the deck above him and earned a slight nod in response. Jack slowly pulled his hand away from her mouth, glad that it had not earned him either a bite or slap from the enraged woman. Quickly and quietly they scurried away from the Captain's quarters, neither one quite knowing where they were going and neither seeing the piece of paper that had fallen on the floor from Elizabeth's shaking hand.  
  
Where moments before, Jack had been willing and ready to leave Elizabeth on her husband's ship where she belonged; he now had changed his mind. With a flash Jack had realized that if she had gone through that much effort to escape her husband, there must have been a reason. Glancing back at Elizabeth, he silently decided that he would find out exactly what that was later.  
  
Continuing to walk at a rapid speed toward the hold, as far away from the two people above deck as possible, he was stopped suddenly by a sharp pain at the back of his head. Turning to look at an irritated Elizabeth and rubbing the spot where she had tugged on his braid, he gave her an impatient stare and raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Jack, where are we going? The only way out is up!" Jack just smiled, revealing his gold teeth and placing a hand at her back to usher her forward. "After you, milady."  
  
They both hurried forward and down, finding themselves in the ship's hold and seemingly no way out. There were of course no windows or doors and the only logical way out was up. Lucky for both of them, Captain Jack Sparrow never was one for logic.  
  
Looking frantically around, he saw exactly what he was looking for and walked quickly towards a space full of rotting wood.  
  
"That'll work." He murmured to himself, "That'll work nicely." Elizabeth just followed suspiciously, and watching Jack stop and grin at several pieces of wood, she decided that he had finally lost it. Glaring at his back and putting her hands stubbornly on her hips Elizabeth questioned him.  
  
"What will work? Jack, there's no way out down here! What in all the seven seas are you doing?!" Jack turned towards his accuser and pointed his finger at her.  
  
"That's the problem with you, luv. You never did trust me." With those words he raised his foot and kicked the hull with all his strength, earning a creak and groan in reply.  
  
"I can get us out of here, but you'll have to trust me lass. Savvy?" Sighing and acting against her better instincts, Elizabeth nodded in response and watched as Jack gave a final hard kick to the hull. Warm water rushed in and both jumped back in reflex. Luckily for them, the breach was just above the water line providing them with a means of escape with less chance of drowning. More water rushed in as each wave came up and Elizabeth eyed the new hole warily. It didn't seem to her like a pleasant option, but she knew that after hearing the loud noise the breaking hull had produced that her husband and Norrington would find them rather quickly.  
  
Elizabeth waded forward into the ankle deep water and took a deep breath.  
  
"Here goes nothing." She muttered under her breath, climbing out of the increasingly larger hole.  
  
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Will's voice reached a screaming level as he reacted to what the man in front of him had just said.  
  
"What do you mean she's GONE?" He yelled at Norrington who stood calmly observing the younger man's reaction. "Are you telling me, Commodore, that my wife just disappeared into thin air while you weren't looking?!" At that point, Will's hand was resting on his sword ready and waiting to smash anything and everything that would oppose his anger. Norrington seemed to be one of those obstacles.  
  
"Essentially, yes. Her maid had said that she had been acting strangely and had disappeared into town until dark the day before she was found missing. No one quite knows what she was up to." Norrington paused as the information soaked into Will's brain, waiting before giving him the final blow and keeping his hand near his own sword, just in case. "The maid also said," he paused again, not continuing until the man's eyes met his own. "that she was with child."  
  
Something almost unrecognizable flashed in Will's eyes and he turned to stare at the ocean, feeling betrayed and numb. When he turned to look back at the Commodore, there was a visible pain written all over his face. "What did you say?"  
  
Norrington opened his mouth to reply, but both men froze feeling more than hearing a loud cracking sound from below them and listening as water rushed into the small ship. All that passed between the two men was a quick glance before they ran below deck.  
  
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Footsteps from the two men running down the ladder echoed in the hold as Jack saw Elizabeth off safely and climbed out of the breach in the hull himself. Swimming with quick strokes, Jack came up even with Elizabeth who wasn't more than fifteen feet away from the Horizon. She looked at him concerned and paused from swimming.  
  
"Jack, what about the boat?" she said, struggling to keep her head above water in the increasing waves. He wrapped his arm around her waist and continued swimming, pulling her away from the slowly sinking ship. "Anamaria'll get another one. Just hope my cheek won't hafta suffer too much for that one."  
  
Jack grinned at her and Elizabeth timidly returned the smile. "If it did, it would only be what you deserved Captain Sparrow."  
  
"Aye, it probably would be."  
  
~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~  
  
Feeling the ship shudder beneath him, Will fell the last few steps off of the ladder and had to steady himself on a chair that, thankfully for him, was bolted to the floor. As Will stood up and brushed himself off he saw something on the floor, several feet away. Norrington had already passed him and was racing down towards the hold to investigate, ignoring the object. Will however, walked closer to it and picked the small folded piece of paper up carefully. Turning it over he saw one word written in a beautiful script on the front of the paper. Immediately, he recognized the writing as belonging to his wife, Elizabeth and he shoved it in his pocket for later reading while following Norrington to the hold. He could see the sloping writing of the single word burned into is mind. There had been just one word. Will.  
  
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Woohooo!!!! Long chapter for me! I hope that this turned out well considering that action/adventure isn't exactly my forte. Review and tell me what you think!  
  
Thanks Steph for all your help on this chapter and the story in general! (You should feel privileged, you're the only one that knows the ending. ;D ) 


	7. Dark Chocolate

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters (and according to my writer's block) I don't own the right to write with them either.  
  
A/N: It has been a little while since my last update hasn't it? Ah yes, the wonders of school and a happy part in a play. Because I have homework and I have to be off book for Act I on Friday, here is my attempt at a decent chapter. Hope it is enjoyed or at least tolerated. ; D  
  
Beau Porteur De Diamant: Thanks...um...I tried on the updating soon part. *sheepish smile*  
  
El Diablo Firestarter: Thanks, that's been my favorite chapter so far too and the Jack suggestion has seemed to be the overwhelming consensus.  
  
pirate-princess: : D Thanks for using my full title. I am and will remain the Evil Queen of Cliffhangers and Pushpins. LOL.  
  
Erica: Thanks so very much!  
  
Erinya: Don't worry, I believe you. LOL. And then in an amazing twist of fate, our plots start to mirror each other. JK. It was a creepy dream, but hey, it had Jack so I'm not complaining either. Yeah, I'm trying to make the "mushy" side of Jack Sparrow work and thanks for the input. It's always necessary to make sure he's in character. Thanks again.  
  
Shadow Phenix: I love the POC soundtrack, it rarely leaves my CD player. : ) And hey, if you actually ever manage to fall asleep to it, you might have a Jack dream too! Urgh...poems for class, I'm sorry. Thanks, I hoped that the chapter actually moved things along a bit. And thanks for the long happy review!!!!!  
  
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Footsteps resounded outside the door of Elizabeth's small room and for a moment her heart skipped a beat and rose high into her throat. Taking a few quick steps toward the door and looking through a small crack in the wood, Elizabeth held her breath, her eyes searching for the dark silhouette she so desperately wanted to see. Brown eyes gazing into the unintelligible darkness for several more moments, she sighed and moved back to the small, comfortable cot against the wall. Biting her lower lip softly, Elizabeth's head fell against the timber wall of her cabin.  
  
It hadn't been Jack. Elizabeth silently chided herself for the thoughts running through her head. She was acting like a schoolgirl; not the intelligent young married woman that she was. For a moment her mind paused; the thought was almost laughable: married. In the eyes of the law, yes but in her own eyes, never.  
  
Elizabeth clutched the light sheets on her bed as she once again heard the sound of slow, steady footsteps hitting the deck and approaching her door. When the sound began to die away and fade from her hearing, butterflies rising in her stomach slowly replaced the strength of her heart beating. She would have to put her plan into action and convince Jack that he was the father, or who knows where he would be dropping her off. Finding herself on a small coconut infested island in the middle of the Caribbean was not her idea of a nice life; or nice death, as the eventuality would be.  
  
At the thought of palm trees, warm ocean and sand, memories returned to her that she had only previously allowed herself for brief amounts of time. Before now, the memory of what she had done had left her with a horrible amount of guilt and it had taken all of her strength just to look Will in the eye. Now it was different and now it wouldn't be something full of guilt and pain but a cherished memory.  
  
Yes, it is possible that he could be the father. Heat rushed into her pale cheeks and a small blush decorated her face as thoughts of their last encounter came flying back. It had been the same day that she had declared her love for Will; the same day that Captain Jack Sparrow had narrowly avoided his neck being unalterably stretched. She still remembered the scent that lingered behind him as Jack walked past her and firmly placed a small scrap of paper in her hand. Only momentarily surprised, Elizabeth pocketed the tiny piece of parchment and waited for the "opportune moment" to read it.  
  
It wasn't until almost sunset that night that the message was remembered and freed from the pocket in her skirts. In large, unsteady and smeared lettering, the note was simple and to the point and also obviously scrawled by someone with a small grasp of the written English language. Arriving at the pre-appointed meeting place well after dark, Elizabeth had been met with a small campfire and only one other person enjoying its heat. That was how it had begun. The blush on her face grew more intense with the thoughts of what had followed. It had definitely not been an activity that a proper young woman should engage in, to say the least.  
  
Elizabeth buried her head into the soft mattress to cool her increasingly warmer face and tried to clear her mind. Yes, she thought, he could probably be convinced; it was at least worth a try. A single tear streamed down her face as Elizabeth firmly told herself that she was doing the right thing for both her and her child.  
  
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Sunbeams beat down hot and strong as Elizabeth climbed up the rigging, trying to keep up with the woman in front of her. Anamaria didn't seem the least concerned that the young woman following her had no experience with what she was currently doing and that a strong breeze was blowing. Grasping the salt-weathered rope with both hands, Elizabeth pulled herself close to the rigging and tried to hang on as another fervent burst of wind thrashed her around far above the deck. Before the gust had subsided and Elizabeth could catch up, Anamaria was climbing up further and reaching out for another rope.  
  
Slightly panicked at the thought of falling behind, Elizabeth climbed up behind Anamaria, not entirely sure of what part of her body was moving where or how. What she was keenly aware of, however, was that all of a sudden no part of her was making contact with the ropes. The world blurred as her petite form plummeted toward the deck and suddenly stopped when her aching arms grabbed splintered rope and kept her from falling. Feeling the sudden jar below her, Anamaria turned and smiled down, more at the momentary slip of the Captain's face (and the horror apparent on it) than for the improvement of the newest crew member.  
  
As Elizabeth caught her breath and looked around her, she slowly began to appreciate her surroundings. High above the swirling Caribbean, with a cool breeze and a bright sky enveloping her, Elizabeth's worries began to melt. Unintentionally loosening her grip on the ropes protecting her, she began to fall again but unable this time to catch herself, let out a blood curdling scream. The clear sky began to swirl away from her and Elizabeth braced herself for sharp contact with the deck of the Pearl. That sharp contact never came.  
  
Feeling strong arms catch her, Elizabeth looked up into the face of Jack Sparrow and promptly buried her head in his shirt. The last thing that she recognized before a dark comfort overcame her was the wonderful smell of salt and rum.  
  
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Flickering candlelight in the warm, dark room matched the pounding rhythm of the pain in Elizabeth's head as she slowly opened her eyes and sat up. With the drowsy state of her mind and the pounding headache in her skull, it was easy to see how any conversation or conversation at all would confuse Elizabeth beyond belief. With this in mind, Jack's next comment came completely out of nowhere.  
  
"Why did you leave Port Royal?" Jack spoke, voice slightly horse and eyes gazing straight at Elizabeth. Silence reigned in the room as Elizabeth tried in vain to get Jack's words through her head, much less why she was in his room and why it was now night.  
  
"What?" She sighed while sinking into the soft mattress and smooth sheets beneath her.  
  
"I asked ya. Why did you leave Port Royal?" Elizabeth rolled her eyes and looked down at the sheets, away from Jack.  
  
"Jack...not now."  
  
"Then when, luv?" He responded, giving her almost a tender look for a short moment, but breaking her gaze by taking a swig of rum. Elizabeth looked as if she would protest for a moment but then she just silently nodded and ran her hand through her hair.  
  
"I left because...because I couldn't..."  
  
"I's alrigh'. Go on."  
  
"I left because I couldn't..." Elizabeth looked at Jack and something flashed in her, something almost unrecognizable. Anger changed the color of her eyes from a soft brown to an angry dark chocolate.  
  
"No, Jack! I don't need to tell you anything, especially not now and not here. Why and how I came to be on this ship is mine to know. I'm doing what you ask of me and putting in my fair share. That is all that you need to know."  
  
In spite of Elizabeth's anger and random outburst, Jack laughed. And for Jack at that moment, laughing was not the smartest thing to do.  
  
"Actually, luv, since I am the Captain of this ship, yur business is my business and that's enough reason for me to know." Despite, and maybe because of the confusion still fogging her thoughts, Elizabeth jumped up and walked quickly, if not unsteadily, over to Jack.  
  
"Why am I in your cabin?"  
  
"Because you fell and I, being the charming Captain that I am, caught you and saved you from a rather messy death if I do say so meself."  
  
"Well," she said tiredly, seeing some logic in what he had said, "why are you interrogating me?" Jack nonchalantly took another drink from his bottle of rum and sat up straighter in his chair, his voice taking on a serious note.  
  
"Because, Miss Elizabeth, I wanted to know why a lovely devoted wife such as yourself would be on a pirate ship in the middle of the Caribbean and not at home with the father of her child?" Elizabeth's jaw dropped slightly and her breath came faster as she stared into Jack's unemotional eyes.  
  
"How do you..." She began quietly, but quickly shook herself out of those thoughts.  
  
"Why aren' you with the father of your child, Elizabeth?" He asked again, face still showing every sign of utter seriousness. Tears welled up in her eyes as she turned away from Jack and muttered under her breath.  
  
"I am." She spoke quietly, wiping away the tears that were running down her cheeks. Jack looked for a moment as if he had heard her and got up to turn her around slowly towards him.  
  
"Wha...what?" At first the word came out as a choked sound but quickly righted itself. Looking into his dark eyes, Elizabeth took a breath, drew up all of her courage and tore herself away, walking towards the door. Before opening the door and walking out, Elizabeth turned back towards him.  
  
"You are the father."  
  
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Wow, in my mind that sucked. Okay, not that bad but it took forever to write and wasn't one of the best turnouts. I apologize in advance. Hehe..I am still the evil queen of cliffhangers. 


	8. Is this a Dream?

Disclaimer: Woe is me, I still don't own any of these characters, despite my wonderful stalking attempts. Darn.  
  
A/N: WEEEEEE!!!!!! Mush has returned to the story! WOOOHOOO! Seeing Pirates for the seventh time (fully paid of course ; D ) has inspired me to write mush. Yay for mush.  
  
Sarah: Thanks! Yeah, going through all of my options, that one seemed the most in character way for her to tell him.  
  
Catsb: THANKS!!!  
  
pirate-princess: Thanks soo very much Stephy! Luv ya! And thanks for joining me on that last viewing of Pirates. ; )  
  
Radicalifis: I want to write more too, how convenient! ; D Thank you.  
  
Beau Porteur De Diamant: *blushes* thanks....hey, maybe when you update yours, I'll update mine. ; ) !  
  
potterluvva: : D Thank you!  
  
Vibe: Hehe...sorry bout that, but what else is the Evil Queen of Cliffhangers to do? LOL. Thanks sooo much! And finally, someone using my proper title. ; D Just for that, here's an update. Don't you feel special?  
  
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"We pillage we plunder, we rifle and loot. Drink up me hearties, yo ho."  
  
The well-known and well-loved song came unenthusiastically out of the mouth of Jack Sparrow as he leaned against his cabin wall. Jack was slumped over a bottle of rum staring at the opposite wall, as he had been for the past hour. By now he should have been able to say exactly how many splinters there were in that piece of wood, but his blurred vision wasn't even able to distinguish the general position of the timber.  
  
"We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot. Drink up me hearties, yo ho."  
  
'And don't give a hoot.' Jack repeated coldly, taking a long swig of the rum in his hand. This was supposed to be the pirate song. It was what they did. They pillaged, plundered, rifled and looted and didn't care! The bottle of rum came down hard on his desk and splashed some of the precious liquid out. Shit! He wasn't supposed to care.  
  
Jack closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying hard to drill and keep a point in his head. 'I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. It doesn't matter what she does, I don't care.' He breathed in and out slowly and opened his eyes, trying to consolidate the five images of his cabin wall floating before him. 'I don't care about her. I don't care. I don't care. I do care.'  
  
"Damn it!" He wasn't supposed to care. He was supposed to not care about the night on the island or the night after that. He was supposed to ignore the fact that she left her husband, the one she used to love, he was supposed to not care that he got her pregnant and he was supposed to ignore the fact that he didn't care if she was back in his life for good. Jack chugged the remaining rum in the bottle and dropped it on the floor carelessly before his whole body followed the path of the bottle. He did care.  
  
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Pacing around her room in darkness, the singular source of light long since burned out, Elizabeth pulled her hair unceremoniously out of the braid it had been secured in. Letting the soft, brown strands fall around her face, she sat down on her bunk and started combing through her tangled hair with her fingers. Soon, though, she was thrashing at her own locks with quick, angry movements and finally yelled out in frustration. Although she was no longer physically pacing, her mind was still running around in circles surrounding the guilt and regret that she felt about what she had just done.  
  
Elizabeth knew that regardless of how much she may or may not regret her actions, she could not change the fact that she had told Jack or how he would react. More likely than not, she pondered, he would throw her off of the ship or drop her off at the nearest port, threatening her to silence and she would never see him again. Or maybe he would have a soft spot in his heart after all and would keep her on the ship? Maybe he would just give her a large sum of money, an apology and a famous smile making sure that she made her way back to some semblance of land.  
  
As her mind kept furiously exerting itself, Elizabeth decided that it was smarter to be pacing, as it seemed to be at least keeping her mind from moving as fast. When she quickly stood up, however, her rocking stomach and spinning vision gave another opinion. Making a beeline for the door of her cabin and practically running to the edge of the ship, Elizabeth promptly threw up over the railing.  
  
Straightening her shirt, she turned back to her cabin, but glancing at it uncertainly, decided to go elsewhere. The ocean air seemed to be helping the sickness, emotionally and physically, that she had been feeling earlier. Letting the strong wind blow her normally restricted hair all around her, whipping her in the face, she walked towards the front of the ship. The moon shone bright and full, illuminating the ship and the sea encompassing it.  
  
Although Elizabeth knew that she was on a ship full of other people, including some that she was already quite familiar with, she could not help but feel completely alone. She had broken away from her home and familiarity, survived a close run in with her husband and even told Jack that he was the father of her child. Yet, the one thing that she had wished to attain in this whole journey was still evading her. The man that had beaten out the love of her husband: Jack Sparrow. Despite the ship that was full of crew, Elizabeth felt utterly isolated.  
  
Finding no comfort in the stars above her, or the sea below her, Elizabeth sat down on the deck under the railing and curled into a ball. Looking around, she saw that she had laid her tired form down in a corner where she was not likely to be noticed. All the better, she thought, the fresh air was helping immensely and she would be gone from the spot before sunrise, so no one would notice.  
  
The chill on deck grew and fog began to roll in, making Elizabeth's clothes damp and her spirit darker. Trying to warm her petite form in the increasing cold, she wrapped her arms around herself, imagining that it was someone else's muscular forearms and not her own, barely clothed ones. The illusion did not hold, however, and Elizabeth buried her head in her arms, attempting to hide the sobs that were escaping.  
  
She just wanted someone to hold her. To feel his strong arms around her and his soft lips on her own. She just wanted to look into his eyes and see that same thing she had seen in Will's. She just wanted him to be hers. And, she admitted to herself as she fell into a deep slumber, she wanted to be his.  
  
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Pink hues of morning penetrated the dark blue sky as sun returned to the heavens and a steady, Caribbean warmth began to grow in the air. It was dawn, one of Jack's favorite times of day (at least when he was conscious for it) and after the contemplations of the previous night and the liquor that accompanied it, the morning had a calming affect. He was at the helm of his ship, it was going to be a perfect day for sailing and yet...Jack wasn't satisfied. He wasn't even comfortable, for that matter.  
  
Despite a whole night of thinking and philosophizing, he hadn't gotten any further on how he should react to what Elizabeth had told him. So, considering that Jack always had a plan, even on just a moment's notice, the fact that he had stayed up all night and not moved forward one bit disturbed him greatly.  
  
He stared out at the sea, smooth and clean as glass, the one thing he had ever truly loved. That was when he realized. He wasn't satisfied with all in that was in front of him because that wasn't all that he truly loved. That was when he realized that Elizabeth wasn't there. The snapping of canvas above him pulled Jack, thankfully for him, out of his uncomfortable and yet completely welcome thoughts. He knew that he felt something for her, something more than solely lust but he didn't know what to do with it. What to do with himself, for that matter.  
  
Jack sighed and looked around him purposefully. Where was his rum anyway? The bottle from last night had fallen on the floor, empty and useless, but he knew that there had to be more bloody rum on the ship than what he had already consumed. As he was glancing around the deck, he saw something move slightly and, fighting against the growing sunlight, squinted at the object he assumed had moved. Jack's muscles grew tense and he froze as he saw that the softly moving form next to a coil of rope was, in fact, Elizabeth Swann.  
  
Seeing that she was asleep, for some unknown reason, on the deck, he crept back to his position at the helm, hoping that she hadn't seen him. For reasons that Jack himself wasn't sure of, he didn't want to be noticed right at that moment.  
  
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A slow, gentle awareness came to Elizabeth as she awoke that, not only was it dawn, but she was still on deck. Quickly moving to leave before someone found her, Elizabeth froze when she saw standing directly in front of her, several feet away, Jack Sparrow. Elizabeth's breath stopped for several moments, as she watched to see if Jack was looking at her. She sighed in relief when she noticed that he was not looking at her, but he was looking over her and if she moved quickly, he might not notice. Even though she wanted to leave, a large part of her told her that she should just walk up to him and wrap her arms around him. Awkwardness and propriety be damned.  
  
Remembering her thoughts from the previous night, Elizabeth bit her lower lip and stood up slowly, walking carefully across the deck. Looking at him, she knew that she didn't need an answer to what she had told him; she just needed him.  
  
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Jack resisted the urge to jump and pull his sword or pistol as he felt long, slender arms wrap around his torso. Looking down on Elizabeth's soft, brown hair, Jack took one arm off of the wheel and carefully wrapped it around her shoulders. As neither of them flinched away, Jack and Elizabeth fell into a comfortable, steady embrace while the sun rose. Elizabeth buried her head into Jack's shoulder and he stroked her hair gently.  
  
Turning her head onto its side so she could both breath and be understood, Elizabeth spoke softly.  
  
"Jack."  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Is this a dream?"  
  
"Can't be, luv. If it were a dream, there'd be rum."  
  
She smiled into his shirt and smelled in the scent that was uniquely him and uniquely male.  
  
"Oh, Jack." Elizabeth said, staring up into his dark eyes, "I'm so lost." He just grinned in response and squeezed her shoulder.  
  
"Then, i's a good thing I found ya."  
  
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WOOHOOO! That was fun! I think that I should write mush more often. At least, that was considered mush for me. Your opinon is your opinion. No wait...your opinion IS your opinion, but I still want to know it so review! I'll love you forever, and considering as I don't know what's gonna happen next, a suggestion might be quite useful. ; D 


	9. The Letter

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never did. Kinda want to, but oh well.   
  
A/N: Wow……I am SO incredibly sorry. Gee, I hope there's still someone out there that will want to read this. And once again, I'm profoundly sorry.   
  
Very Special Note: From now forward, this story is dedicated to a good friend of mine that I really miss. It's a meager and pitiful effort that can't even begin to describe the loss I feel and how much I'll miss her.   
  
*Malini Sathydev (December 7th 1988-March 16th 2004) This story is dedicated to you, lover of "Pirates of the Caribbean", "Lord of the Rings" , Elijah Wood, Orlando Bloom and hot guys in general. The long IM conversations debating who had seen Pirates more were great; wish I could have said a proper goodbye. I miss you so much. Wacky Schmacky. Love, Meg.   
  
~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~  
  
Timber moved slightly and slowly, back and forth, back and forth, to the rhythm of the ocean. With every moment, a new sound came: waves, gulls, wind, a ship settling in the crystal blue Caribbean water and the sound of a canvas hammock creaking beneath him. Cold, pink light filtered down the stairs into the murky bunk area, making visible the soft swirls and languid curling smoke of the grey mist filling the cabin.   
  
In the dustiness of the morning, fog on the ocean is intriguing, beautiful and mesmerizing. But, the shapes playing in front of William Turner's eyes were anything but beautiful. To him they represented a world that he had left behind; and someone in that world that had chosen to leave him behind. He had only wanted to make Elizabeth content, to fill her life with joy and to show her that he was good enough for her, but as he looked around it occurred to Will that he must have failed miserably.   
  
As Will turned over in the hammock, a loud noise coupled with the small groan that had escaped his throat shocked his brain out of dank dreams. With a thud and shattering sound, a full glass bottle hit the wooden floor and spilled its contents. The amber liquid moved quickly, overtaking grains of the wood silently and without obstacle. The expensive alcohol had been taken from a liquor cabinet in Will's own house, but he had not yet been able to bring himself to drink it, no matter the pain he was feeling.   
  
Something just kept telling him that Elizabeth would return any minute and when she did, he wanted to be coherent. Even at the moment, though, without the drink in his system, it was debatable whether or not Will was functioning. After the first night back in Port Royale without Elizabeth, he hadn't been able to live in their house; all he had known was that he had to get out. Not knowing where else to go, Will had returned to the one thing that made him feel whole, made him feel like the man that he once was.   
  
The light pouring into the room slowly and gradually altered from rosy pink to yellow and orange, leaving an even eerier effect on the air in the cabin. Bright, tropical Caribbean color played on his surroundings and created weird shadows out of innocent white hammocks. What others could have seen as a wonder of nature and miracle from above, just brought Will's mind back to his wife. The curling shapes seemed like the coil of her soft hair and as he breathed deep the smell of morning on the ocean, he prayed that he could smell Elizabeth's fragrance lingering on her pillow again instead of musty canvas beneath his hair.   
  
The one receding candle flickering on dark wood walls only brought his tortured mind back to the light that used to fill her eyes. The spark that would dance into a flame when he would smile at her or touch her skin or whisper her name. Will breathed in sharply and rolled onto his other side, ignoring the bruises in his ribcage. The injuries he had sustained while escaping his now sunken ship had not yet been tended to and were proving more and more burdensome with every movement of muscle. Despite the pain, though, Will settle his tired body and closed his eyes, trying to keep encroaching dawn out of the inky, far corner that he occupied. As he sat, isolated I the darkness, Will let his mind wander and began to feel more alone than ever. He was alone, but he knew that he had no one to blame but himself.  
  
Once or twice in the past few days he had heard familiar voices wandering onto the dock next to his ship. They had offered sympathetic tones and informed him that he couldn't live within his own thoughts forever. But soon, the friends had just given up and silently hoped that he would come out in is own time. Will sniffed at the thought of his actually being described as 'living' at the moment. Somehow, he figured that he could only be seen as 'barely existing' given the state he was in, but then again, what did he know? No more than the people outside, really, the only difference being that they had no concept of the heartache that was his. Will had ignored them, ignoring the cry for help in his heart and none had so much as ventured onto the deck of the ship.   
  
Shrieks of gulls filled his ears as white ghosts of hammocks swayed softly with the rocking of the ship. In his own mind, everything was ghostly. The room, the candle, the mist, the hammocks, even his own figure must have looked little better than a dying man's at the moment. Wrapping his lean, aching arms around his soiled white shirt for warmth, Will felt the small piece of paper residing under his back. He knew what the object was without looking, as he had read it far too many times in the last few days and could see the words by memory. Nevertheless, his fingers shakily pulled the parchment out again and set his gaze on the all too familiar language. Former tearstains of his own making had dried paper into chilling shapes as they ran the ink and words with them. For all the emotion contained within the message, it was oddly distant and involved; unlike the bluntness that so often occupied Elizabeth's speech. He unfolded it carefully, wary of what it would say, regardless of the familiarity.  
  
"Dearest Will", it read, "Blacksmith, pirate or husband, none of these names matter any longer, nor do they classify you entirely. Whatever you were, if any of these things, now it is no longer there. I regret to think upon how you have subdued and become the model husband to my place in society. The model husband to my place…and not to myself." As he read it once again, Will could tell that Elizabeth had been either strongly emotional or strangely distant while writing him. Her extensively flowery language and formal statements were things instilled in her by practice and tutors; but things that she had never before thought to use with him.   
  
"I must leave, there is no other choice. When we were married, you seemed to be adventure and a way out of my life, but I found that you were nothing more than a mirage: a cool drink of water that I had so desperately longed for. Now there are so many other places in the world that I long to experience, and you cannot take me there. If your heart is breaking, just know that mine is right along side yours, breaking away and …and moving on. However, if you sorrow less for yourself and more for a part of yourself which, as I'm sure you have heard, I carry within me, you must know that it is safe. I could do nothing to harm a child, especially yours."   
  
The last sentence was quoted in a whisper as Will set his jaw and quietly clenched his fist. The next part of the letter had been run with tears, but not his own. He knew that Elizabeth had to release emotions, but not ones that she had meant for him to understand. Tearstained words were written in French, under the assumption that it was something Will could not read and would not trouble with. Elizabeth, however, had been wrong and the hidden thoughts contained in the foreign were even more painful than the things that had been willingly revealed to him.   
  
"Je suis désolé et…je suis désolé encore. Je ne sais pas que parler à toi. Je ne sais pas que faire et maintenant j'haine moi-même pour le." The sentiments silently translated in Will's mind. "I am very sorry and very sorry again. I do not know what to say to you. I did not know what to do and now I hate myself for it." Will knew what these words meant. She had been reluctant to leave. She had not been absolutely sure of herself. Will shuddered more of his own thoughts and suspicions than the chill of the air. He continued reading what little there was left to read after excerpt in French. He knew from reading it that Elizabeth had obviously collected both herself and her emotions before continuing.   
  
"I did not wish it to end his way, Will. Or…Maybe it won't end this way…who am I to tell the will of the sea…or of the Captain. Don't wait up for me. I love you with all of whatever the ocean has not yet pulled away. Goodbye, William." It was simply signed "Elizabeth".   
  
Will watched the paper flutter to the ground softly and disturb the trails of mist still encompassing his tired form. Goodbye. Goodbye, and nothing else. He rubbed his tired eyelids and stretched his arms out above him. Even with the outright discouraging and depressing tone the letter had had, something still haunted him. It lingered in the back of him mind as he slowly stood up, shaken and weak, and made his way up to the deck for the first time in long hours.   
  
A bright morning sun rose above the horizon and shone brightly, piercing daggers into his dark eyes. As the glint of the ocean, the smell of the Caribbean and the sounds of a town coming alive once again filled his senses, something sparked alive inside of Will that he hadn't allowed to surge through him for several months.   
  
Enveloping wind surrounded him and fingered through his hair, while nurturing a growing feeling lurking just out of reach. His wife was somewhere out there across the Caribbean Sea. Although he did not know where in that large expanse, the challenge of an unsolved adventure called to him, albeit through the many bloodlines of his past. A Turner would not give up easily; he would find Elizabeth and she would find that the pirate is still in his blood. He would find her and bring her back, even if only with the one clue he possessed. Wherever she was, she was with Jack Sparrow.   
  
~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~ ~~~*~~~  
  
Well, I hope that was enjoyed. Sorry that it was a tad bit depressing, but hey, I guess that's how the character would work. Please, give me feedback, even if it is a flame or a (well-deserved might I add) comment about how long I took. Love you all and hope you liked this chapter. : D 


	10. Fresh Air

Disclaimer: Don't own the movie or the characters from it. Do own the story and the characters I wrote. Wow, it's amazing.   
  
A/N: Hmm…I don't really know if there is one. Once again, I haven't really written much lately. I'm going to choose to blame summer school Chemistry this time. Yeah, well…going to Disneyland Saturday kind of inspired me. (It's only the third time since I last updated. Guess it took a while to inspire me.) Okay, I lied. That was an author's note.

**W**arm, muggy air hung still in the cabin, not moving despite the slight breeze outside. The heat relentlessly surrounded two bodies lying still and quiet in the peace and seeming silence of a night on calm waters. One figure could be heard inhaling sharply and suddenly, twisting the soft and worn fabric surrounding her as she turned away from the man by her side. Moisture gathered on her forehead and throat as small tortured sounds escaped her mouth.   
  
The petite female form thrashed about on a large, luxurious bed, narrowly escaping kicking the man next to her but hitting him nonetheless. A small groan came as a result of being accidentally punched in the stomach and the man's eyes flashed open. With quick movements that come only from years of necessary caution, the man reached for a knife under his pillow, but stopped suddenly, seeing the cause for his awakening. Nerves relaxed once again, he watched the young lady with concern.   
  
The woman threw a large, heavy blanket down to her ankles and clawed at all of the materials surrounding her, trying to escape from some unseen enemy. In the struggle to break free, she was unaware of her own movement towards the edge of the bed. As her body began to fall to the floor, Elizabeth felt something solid wrap around her waist, pulling her back. She gasped, coming up from her terrifying dream and gripping Jack's arm almost painfully hard.   
  
Her whole body shook as her eyes frantically glanced around the room futilely trying to search through the darkness. She felt a hand stroke her hair and, as nothing could be seen to harm her, her breathing slowed and calmed. A steady, low voice whispered lazily in her ear.   
  
"Tha's the fifth time this week you've tried ta sacrifice yourself to the floor of my cabin." Elizabeth looked down at the sheets trying to ignore the pounding in her head and the logic speaking from the man at her side. "Is there something' ya need to talk about?"  
  
When the only response to his question was the lackadaisical sound of waves   
  
sloshing against the ship, Jack turned up on his side to look Elizabeth in the eye.   
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
She attempted a tired smile and sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling a piece of stray hair behind her ear.   
  
"Well, it's. No." She started rubbing her temples with her forefingers. "Nothing is wrong. I…I only need a bit of fresh air." Elizabeth turned to offer a reassuring, although unconvincing, look and stood unsteadily, walking towards the door. As she opened the door and stepped into the pale moonlight, Jack could not help but doubt her statement.  
  
"I don' think a bit of fresh air will do anything for you, luv."

**J**ack sat in a high backed chair, eyes closed tightly in thought and a full bottle next to him. Yelling and loud noises were just beginning to cease outside of his cabin as the men of his crew got back to their daily jobs. The men were reaching their wits end, and Jack could not help but to follow along. His new female addition to the crew had, once again, narrowly escaped getting herself a nasty bruise and concussion, in the least. When he first brought her on, it had not seemed like such a rough deal to Jack. Then the nightmares had come, quickly followed by everything else imaginable.   
  
Elizabeth only seemed to have grown worse as the days and nights dragged on. Her nightmares continued and she began to grow frail with sickness from lack of sleep and, well…Jack did not even really know what else. He did know, however, that at the moment he had a near mutiny on his hands, and that was something he definitely did **not** want to experience again. Obviously, some factor could not stay the way it was.   
  
Standing slowly, he began to pace around the cabin and mumble incoherently. His mind flew, trying to stop at any possible solution to the problem at hand, but none seemed suitable. As much as Jack did not like to admit it, he had an attachment to Elizabeth Swann. But…he also had an attachment to his crew. Stopping dead in front of the door, he knew what he could do and more than that, he knew why. The reasons were staring him straight in the face. Strangely enough, for one of the first times in his life, Jack didn't know if he could do it.

Well, uh…I suppose that was it. I kind of hope that there are more than just three people reading this now. Oh, who am I kidding! There are two. Hmmm….please review if you'd like. Or flame, whatever. Response would be good though. ; D


	11. Woman's Luck

-1A/N: uhh…I am utterly ashamed that my last update to this was about two years ago…..ahem I must apologize that this fic will continue to follow it's pre-formed plot, despite the fact that the second movie will have changed some of the minor points. Please ignore that. This fic is now officially floating in its own time zone. Whoops.

And any former readers (I'm afraid they may've all died of old age by now) please review and spare me my life.

* * *

As most human beings throughout history have noticed during their minute stays of pain, joy, and obliviousness on this earth, being awoken from a night's sleep (be it contented or horrific) is not pleasant. And being awoken from a night's sleep multiple times in one night several nights over does no more than magnify this fact. This understood, Joshamee Gibbs was not a happy person as he stood in the midst of an irritated and comatose crew at some un-godly hour of the morning. To put it bluntly, the rest of the crew was not happy either.

Sun toughened, battle hardened men though they were, the crew of the Black Pearl did not take kindly to waking by banshee-like shouts. Through pure reflex, many had first started to their stations upon hearing Elizabeth Swann's nightmare riddled screaming and were none too happy to discover that the situation was, in fact, no situation. Several nights later, they were prepared to stage a mutiny.

"Quit all yer blasted cackling!" Gibbs yelled, throwing an empty bottle at the crowed behind him. "I'll be speakin' to the Cap'n." Gibbs attempted to ignore the disgruntled sounds following him as he made his way up to Jack Sparrow's quarters.

Moonlight shone brightly on the deck of the Pearl, creating bright pools where sea water had accumulated throughout the night. Squinting none too happily at the light that met his eyes, Gibbs shuffled through the warm breeze and ruffled his sleep-styled hair. Over the last few days, the scene had become increasingly familiar to Jack Sparrow's long time first mate as he, once again, made an entreaty to the captain. Gibbs did not like the idea of mutiny any more than the captain he served, but to his sleep deprived brain, the idea was becoming more and more appealing. Besides, women had always been bad luck in the past, and Miss Elizabeth seemed to be trying to prove it. At this point, Gibbs would do anything to entitle himself to a peaceful night. Humming a well worn tune under his breath, Gibbs rounded a corner and found Elizabeth leaning against the railing, a hollow look echoing on her face.

Elizabeth heard the words Jack aimed at her as she walked out of his cabin, a beaten aura about her.

"You've got ta' give it up, love. Fresh air innit going ta' help ya any more than the rum ya keep refusin'."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was right. As the nightmares grew worse, Elizabeth's resolve weakened and she could not help but question her decision to "live the pirate life". Her heart was with Jack, that she knew, but somewhere deep inside, Elizabeth still felt herself tied to her husband. Tied to the man that she knew could not let her go.

Torn and tired, Elizabeth felt the weight of sleepless nights and chronic fatigue on her shoulders. She knew that Jack had the best of intentions when he left a plate of nearly palatable food close their bed every morning and she saw the weary concern in his eyes as she left it, mostly untouched, every evening. She simply did not feel up to dealing with life at all. Not hers, not Jack's, and certainly not the budding one within her. Silently she resolved that she would eat some hard-tack in the morning for Jack's sake. After all, he had been more than accommodating. Perhaps the idea of a child had softened him, she mused. Distantly Elizabeth wondered how Will's face would have looked when she told him the news. How his hands would have caressed her. Shaking her head, she pulled back a stray piece of hair and took a faltering step towards the barely lit doorway behind her.

"How do you put up with me, Captain Sparrow?" She whispered softly to herself. A strong, yet tired response met her query. "Ya haven't burned the rum yet, love."

Smiling slightly, the young woman turned back to the sky, knowing the man's response was all the reassurance he could muster at such an early morning hour. Rubbing her swollen stomach, Elizabeth sighed and stared out at the lackadaisical sway of the ocean's waves. The stars were no comfort, nor the moon. She knew that their light had fostered as many nightmarish scenes as love poems. And as she scanned the faint line where the sky met the sea, Elizabeth's hand froze.

"Miss Elizabeth--" Gibbs voice came out subtly but forcibly, "ya'd better go back inside and try to rest. I'll settle the rabble." Gibbs put his hand below her elbow and attempted to turn Elizabeth around, but she stuck stubbornly, one hand to the railing. Her honey brown eyes, hollow in her face, stared at a point on the horizon unmoving. Turning to face the unceasing ocean, Gibbs saw what precisely Elizabeth was staring at. A ship. Several leagues off and an indeterminate grey in the light of the moon, but a ship nonetheless. With an unwavering breath, Elizabeth slowly turned her head towards Gibbs and spoke.

"Will."

* * *

Yeah, I know. An incredibly long wait for that? Precisely my thought. My apologies. However, at the current time of 4 a.m., it's pretty darn good. Flame on! 


	12. Preparation

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. Never did. And until I marry a millionaire (unlikely), never will.

A/N: Thanks for the positive response! And the all-too-deserved responses of some shock at some earlier content. Yeah, I know. Bear with me as I hope to update this more before I move up to LA.

And, of course, Nathan. She'll hide in the woman's restroom. ; )

* * *

Gibbs saw the wild look in Elizabeth's eyes as she said that name. The same resolute spark that he had seen time and again in his voyages across the seas with her; a wildness that had not yet failed her and, he reckoned, had brought her back onto the Pearl. Slowly she extricated her thin arm from his grasp and stood with the grace and pride given to her by hundreds of proper functions and familial reprimands. Even on the deck of a pirate ship, Elizabeth Swann was a lady, and she did not let the intentions in her voice waver.

"Thank you, Mr. Gibbs. But I do not think I will be any further nuisance this evening." With a steady tone she finished, "You can assure the crew of that."

The first mate took an uncertain step towards captain's quarters and stared into the door, as if hoping to see the assuring face of Jack inside. Receiving no such affirmation, Gibbs pulled out his flask and took a quick drink before nodding sharply.

"Aye." He responded, rubbing his salt crusted hair with a tan hand. Tired and skeptical, Gibbs only mumbled as he walked away, "But if that ain't enough, I'll be sendin' ya down ta negotiate."

* * *

Illuminated by the same sliver of moon, another form stood miles off from the Black Pearl. His strong legs anchored him firmly to a creaking, empty deck, and a resolve beat in his heart that was too fierce to ignore. As tired waves lapped against the hull of the nearly vacant ship, Will Turner leaned against the Caribbean wind and let his pulse race quicker. Elizabeth was tangibly near, and inaction seemed painful.

Will knew from experience that waiting was the best tactic to achieve what he wanted. But in that inevitable lapse of time, he knew he would have to own up; and nothing frightened him more.

When Will returned to Port Royal to find his wife missing, he was inconsolable. Hours blended into each other and days tasted of the same routine. It was not until he had found the determination to hunt Elizabeth down that he begin to feel anything. And the anything that he felt was not particularly pleasant, either. Given as straight runs of liquor do not agree well with the human body, Will only could recollect the strokes of pain and jumbled memories that appeared with the cloud of rum. He dreamt of things they had done together, moments shared, destinations only longingly thought of. But most of all, he thought of his child; the child he knew Elizabeth to be carrying. The more he thought, the more an indescribable longing came over him, and he knew no other idea than finding her.

Will turned with a decisive click of his heels and began to pace the deck in large, ambling strides. He knew that if Jack were with her, he would protect her. Well…perhaps not protect so much as wholeheartedly and repeatedly coerce. But Captain Jack Sparrow was Captain Jack Sparrow, and Will would not take no for an answer. His calloused hand reflexively rested on the hilt of his sword.

If it was a fight Jack wanted, he would get one.

Willing to clash though he was, Will silently he hoped Elizabeth would follow of her own accord, without objection. The only clue she had left him did not offer much in the way of encouragement. The heavy canvas of a sail snapped above the able man's head, reminding him of both the life he left behind and the desperate individual he had become.

Pounding his fist against the railing, Will struggled to control the building rage inside of his frame. Deep down he knew that something was not right between himself and Elizabeth; but God help him, he had tried. Apparently, it just was not enough.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought to erase the image of another man embracing his wife and struggled to remember the look of passionate love written on her face. He could not stand losing her. Especially when she was so close to being his again.

For the first time in far too long, Will was prepared to be as improper as necessary to have Elizabeth back in his arms. Breathing deeply of the salty ocean air, he stilled raw nerves and began to count down the hours.

* * *

A slight shadow filled the doorway to Jack Sparrow's quarters and the sound of soft, calculated footsteps echoed past the sleeping Captain. Grabbing a green apple in each hand from a bowl nearby, the silent intruder rubbed the fruit's smooth skin with a slender finger before gaining a more practical grip and aiming carefully.

Sitting up with a start and reaching for the favored weapon under his pillow, Jack's alert eyes darted around the room searching for his offender. Finding only Elizabeth staring at him through the dusky blue, Jack sighed and leaned back in annoyance.

"Well, at least you've started to take a likin' to some form of food. Even jus' as ammunition." He slurred, picking up the now bruised apple. "What's the time?"

"Nearly dawn." Elizabeth spoke carefully.

Taking a bite of the apple in her hand, the young woman clad only in a gauzy night gown walked in measured steps to the doorway.

"Best get an early start."

Leaving Jack to determine his own reasons for Elizabeth's actions, he rubbed the now sore spot on his head.

"I prefer waking' up t'other way."

* * *

Elizabeth lifted her chin up proudly as she walked now with sure, even steps to her broom closet quarters. From a spirit that had been unsure and wavering only an hour before now came a new resolve and defiance. Though no set plan was set before her, Elizabeth began to act purely on instinct and desire. As she lit the single taper in her room, strange shadows fell along the wall and sparked the young bride's imagination.

Grabbing into a pile of worn, salt scented clothing, Elizabeth pulled out a grubby white shirt and dark pants of indeterminate age. They had become her new uniform while going about her duties on the Pearl and had begun to fit her more suitably than any old clothes she had brought along. A small spark of joy softened the woman's features momentarily as she thought of the change being wrought upon her by such a small being. Already it was becoming obvious that the child was growing, and sometimes Elizabeth could not believe that the same person cherishing it had once tried to eliminate it from existence.

Jack had been more than generous to her. He had been gracious, patient, hopeful even; that is, when the crew was not within ear shot. He would not tolerate any ill talk of the newest crew member, be it legitimate or not. However, Elizabeth did not pretend to think that Jack would risk protecting her openly, especially from her husband. Thus, she reflected, pulling her hair back evenly, another more independent plan would be necessary. The ship was small, but there were places she could hide; blend in. At least, that is what Elizabeth dearly hoped.

"I'm sorry ta be disappointin' ya, Mr. Turner, but she's not ta be found." Jack drawled, leaning against the railing of the Black Pearl. Will stood straight and stiff, glancing sharply at Jack, not moving an inch from his posture. It was obvious that he was less than contented to meet anyone but his wife directly upon his arrival, and the captain was not nearly as distracting as usual.

"Do you mean to say that you do not have her, or you will not tell me where she is?" Will Turner's dark eyes held neither friendship nor forgiveness in them as he beheld his long time acquaintance.

"It just about amounts ta the same thing, mate."

"Not when it concerns my wife."

"Silver and gold." Jack dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "If you want ta find her, I recommend Tortuga. She could make a good living there." He turned with his back towards will and began to walk away. "Plethora a lonely sailors like yerself."

As Jack turned back towards the helm, a contented grin on his face, his ears were met with a less than sociable sound. With carefully trained reflexes and a welling anger, Will drew his sword.

"Jack, you will present my wife. You know where she is, and I expect to not request again."

All kidding behavior aside, Jack stepped around directly in front of the offending blade and returned the challenging stare.

"Being that yer a guest on my ship, I'll overlook this minor faux pas, as it were." Slowly pushing the weapon away from chest level, Jack continued, "You may search to yer hearts content, Mr. Turner."

Will placed his sword back in its scabbard and nodded brusquely. Taking quick, eager strides, he threw over his shoulder, "No interference, Jack."

Rubbing one of the many glass beads surrounding his head, Jack swung again towards the helm and thought of Elizabeth standing in her nightgown.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Still short, I know. But longer than it was. I was attempting to put more into this chapter, but 4 is my personal morning curfew. Please review/flame. Your choice! 


	13. Unlucky Thirteen

A/N: the author will now console herself with the possibility that since she did not see her fic on the page as current and had to search to find it, many other people may have had to do so also. Thus explaining the lack of reviews sigh alright, now that that is over, thank you so much for reviewing!

Pirate princess: glad the laptop worked for you. And thanks for the help with the story line. Love always!

Erik's Secret Admirer: thanks so much! Thanks for the review. : D

angelofmynightmare: yeah! It'd probably be a more fun game if I didn't know where she was… ; )

CaptJacksGirl: thanks so much: )

* * *

**The** thud of Elizabeth's pulse pounded in her throat, making her pale skin jump to the sound of the passing footsteps above her head. In a flash of distant thought, she mused that she must have been a rather dramatic sight to behold at that moment, crouched as she was against a wooden beam in the underbelly of the Black Pearl.

Drops of water fell onto her unwashed hair, adding a feeling of impatience and nervousness to the already unsteady situation. Dank air and long empty crates once filled with the mysterious and mediocre surrounded her, creating an environment that could only be described as pirate-ish. As boots clanked above her in heavy rhythm, Elizabeth breathed in short, rapid bursts of air. Every sound quickened her heartbeat and the water sloshing outside of the ship made it harder to hear. Footfalls were alarming, shadows deceiving, and a human imagination the most alarming of all.

Truthfully, Elizabeth felt like a complete and utter child as she sat in her newest hiding place. Drifting from location to location on the ship was more than ridiculous, especially considering its small size. Hiding from ones husband on a pirate ship owned by ones lover was even more ridiculous. Thus, Elizabeth Swann Turner found herself feeling more like a frightened adolescent than a capable woman. Rubbing her moist hands on the weathered brown pants she was wearing, the young woman's ear tuned itself once more to the sounds around her.

Wood creaked with the sway of the ship, getting seemingly louder with each movement. Torpid water pooled under Elizabeth's feet, increasing her desire to move and stretch. Drops continued to fall, soaking into the thin material covering her shoulder. Anxiety fell upon her in the same manner, and Elizabeth pulled stray pieces of her hair back into the canvas tie holding it.

Why was she even doing this? She wondered with exasperation, finally standing out of her crouch and wading through the stagnant hold water.

Should she not simply face her husband and give up the absurdity of her current situation? Merely look Will in the eye and tell him that she would not return to him?

Elizabeth shook her head and nearly laughed at the idea. Even she did not desire to confront Will Turner when he had a dark purpose on his mind and a weapon in his hand. Rubbing the elongated scar on her palm, Elizabeth continued to muse.

Well, with Jack nearby, why should she be afraid to confront to her husband? Of course he would defend her and her child. She had seen a completely different side of the Captain; one that he had let her see.

A particularly large wave jolted the ship and threw Elizabeth to her hands and knees. Soaking in the water, she looked up to the floor above her and started at the sound of her husband's approaching voice. Uncertainty raced through her blood like adrenaline.

Jack would protect her, wouldn't he?

* * *

Captain Jack Sparrow stood calmly at the helm of his beloved ship, eyes steadily fixed on the horizon, hair blowing on the breeze. His steady countenance and sure gaze formed an intimidating figure to be sure, and the crew went about their business silently. Will Turner, however, did not seem to be nearly as impressed as the captain would have desired. Pacing from some undetermined starboard location he paused briefly, running his fingers through his hair, and stared out at the ocean in dismay. Obviously, he had not yet found what he was looking for.

"I take it that something' is still eluding ya. Yer beloved wife, perhaps? Couldn't have anything' to do with the eunuch issue, could it?" Jack's guise broke only as he uttered the comment, still fixedly looking towards the rolling waves.

Will retaliated by sharply turning towards Jack and sending poniards through his tone.

"No interference, Jack."

"Captain. That would be Captain, mate."

"I will call you 'Captain' when I see your actions reflect the title." Will brooded.

"They do." Jack calmly answered.

"Truthfully, Jack?" his tone bit harshly, "Never mind. Needless question. You never were one for the truth."

Without flinching for a moment, Jack turned to face his former friend. His meaning was clear as he let his tattooed and scarred hand rest on the hilt of his sword.

"Pirate."

"Aye, Captain Sparrow. How could I forget?"

The two stood nearly eye to eye for a brief instant, both recognizing an intangible flash in the other's expression. Will was the first to break away, tense muscles itching for a fight. With a sharp intake of air, he transferred his energy to a better purpose and began to stalk in a new direction. Jack's voice rang out behind him with a confidence that only spurred Will on further.

"No one ever seems to."

* * *

Splinters of aged and rugged wood dug into the young woman's fingers as she clung to a beam several feet off the floor of the ship's hold. The dank, dirty wool blanket covering the slight woman's frame made it impossible for her to see any of her surroundings or the man descending the stairs into the hold. But Elizabeth did not need to see his face to know that her husband was near.

Precariously held up as she was, Elizabeth struggled to retain her balance with the slight swaying of the ship. Trying hard to regain equilibrium, she pushed jagged chips of timber into her clothing and limbs. Elizabeth listened intently to her surroundings, hearing largely her own pounding heart.

Familiar footfalls crossed away from her towards the bow of the ship's underbelly. Objects shifted as Will peered around the hold, hoping against hope to find a single sign of his wife. Elizabeth heard his even breath begin to quicken and deepen, echoing in the nearly empty wooden chamber. Suddenly a clatter of noise arose; wood crates and discarded bottles rattled across the floor, victims of the sailor's anger.

Elizabeth peered through a tiny moth hole in the worn wool covering and stared, for the first time in months, at the figure of her husband. He sat slumped on a crate with his back to her, his broad muscular shoulders in a position showing anything but assurance. Elizabeth's heart sank ever so slightly as Will placed his head in his hand and sighed heavily. With no solid way to assert why, Elizabeth saw that the man in front of her was not the confident, assertive person she married. Though he may have ranted and seethed while in full of view others on deck, he seemed to let his stern demeanor down in the dark hold of the Pearl.

The two sat nearly motionless, only feet away from each other for what seemed like endless minutes to Elizabeth. The dark figure had not moved from his stolid position for quite some time, and the woman began to gain a strong confidence. Slowly sliding her aching body towards the point where the beam met the solid wall of the ship, Elizabeth began to climb back towards the swaying floor. One shaking foot hit the surface of a wooden crate and Elizabeth let her thin, pale hands release their grasp of the protective beam. Elizabeth let a small, relieved breath out before she felt a warm presence slide off of her shoulders.

With a loud thunk sound, the eaten, moldy blanket fell onto the deck, freezing Elizabeth's frightened silhouette. Will's strong back shot into an alert position as he was brought quickly out of his former reverie.

Skeptically he began to move to a standing position and smoothed his hair off of his forehead. Elizabeth could not find the courage to move and prayed that her husband would not turn around to investigate. The man's gaze began to scan the area suspiciously, moving slowly in her direction. Every muscle in Elizabeth's body went rigid as she desperately tried to think of something to distract the person in front of her. Luckily, she did not have to.

A loud crash sounded above both of their heads on the deck of the Pearl. Several unfriendly shouts followed, seemingly from Gibbs, and a clatter of feet moved on deck. Echoing thuds filled the hold, providing just the kind of diversion the young woman needed as Will stood looking at the unseen chaos above him. Nothing could have been more perfectly timed to Elizabeth, and she would not take fate's offering for granted.

Rushing with as quiet a run as she could muster, Elizabeth sprinted up the ladder from the hold and onto the deck of the pirate ship. Emerging into the bright light of Caribbean day, she shoved through startled crew members towards safety in Jack's cabin.

Little did she know that her exit had not gone completely unnoticed by the man still standing in the dank, swirling water of the hold. With new determination, Will tightened his sword belt and waded towards the empty ladder.

* * *

The heavy wooden door to the captain's quarters slammed open as Elizabeth Swann darted inside. Her eyes scanned frantically for the one man she was looking for, but no sign of Jack Sparrow could be found, save a discarded rum bottle rolling on the floor. Elizabeth was startled and scared; she did the only thing she could think of.

Picking up the bottle, she took a defensive position next to the doors of the cabin, attempting to catch her breath. Will was so close to finding her and, she haltingly realized, she was getting closer to willingly giving up.

Heavy footsteps approached the entrance next to her and the young woman tensed. The metal handles shook with the effort of a hand and Elizabeth gripped the bottle's neck harder.

The double doors crashed open and Elizabeth raised the glass above her head, bringing both hands down with all of her strength. She expected to hear some sort of groan of pain as she moved, but to her surprise, no sound was heard. Even more surprising, her wrists were being held by warm, strong hands. Opening her eyes, Elizabeth was met with the quizzical face of Jack Sparrow.

Slowly he released her hands and closed the doors behind him, staring at the woman's frightened face.

"I don' know what ya have against rum, but this seems ta be a bit excessive." he drawled, walking towards her carefully. Elizabeth let the bottle drop to the floor and gripped Jack's arms tightly.

"Jack, Will is here! He's here, on this ship and he is only moments away from finding me." Her brown eyes pleaded, staring intently into his own. "Please Jack, do something." The captain only tipped her chin up and spoke quietly.

"I marvel tha' the elusive Elizabeth Swann has no further tricks up her sleeve." He stared at Elizabeth keenly and shook his head, beads rattling. "And requests my help."

"Yes, Jack. I need your help." The man's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "When Will comes, will you protect me?"

A longing tone filled her voice as Jack pulled away and stepped further into his quarters; Elizabeth followed and stood close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck. Slowly he turned, taking in the full picture of a former young lady.

"Why is it that ya don' want ta be goin' back with Mr. Turner, I wonder."

"Jack please, not right now…" she protested weakly. He did not heed her objections.

"Why, Elizabeth?" He countered. "Is it because he never held you…" Jack wrapped his strong arms around her waist. "Like this?" The woman melted into his grasp, with only a little resistance.

"Jack--"

"Did he ever show you jus' how much he felt for you?" The pirate's sun tanned hand rose to touch her cheek and Elizabeth reflexively brought her hand up to meet it.

"I--"

"Or was it the kiss? I always was a bit unconvinced that he was doin' ya complete justice."

This time, Elizabeth could illicit no response, and only stood mutely entranced by Captain Jack Sparrow.

Being that no objection was given, Jack pulled Elizabeth Swann Turner closer to himself and lowered his lips down to hers. Elizabeth willingly obliged, tilting her head up softly.

Wrapped in dreaming warmth, the two stood in the center of the room, arms wrapped around each other. Neither heard the door creak. Neither saw the figure standing in the doorway. But both turned at the cocking of a pistol.

* * *

Steph, you are sooo right! I am a soap opera fanfic writer. That's okay, it was super duper fun! Hope someone else liked it too. Please read and review. : ) 


	14. Crossing Blades

_A/N: alright, I decided to get on the computer and write the next chapter to hopefully distract me from the fact that I'm moving to college tomorrow morning…_

_Thanks so much for the reviews! They make me happy! And do actually inspire me to write more. : )_

_Major kudos to Steph for this chapter: you wrote like half of it._

**T**he click of a gun sounded, startling the couple out of their passionate embrace. Elizabeth quickly pulled her lips away from Jack's, responding to the quizzical look in his stare. Reflected in his dark brown eyes was a figure she had only dared to think of in nightmares, an otherworldly form bent and distorted by Jack's eyes. Turning nervously, Elizabeth's frightened pallor met the jealous gaze of her husband.

Will Turner stood in the doorway of the captain's quarters, pistol pointed squarely at the pair in front of him. The aura around him betrayed nothing save the fact that he would do anything to get what he wanted; concerning a desperate man with a gun, that was not a safe statement.

"Take your hands off my wife." Will growled through gritted teeth, holding the pistol steadily straight. Neither Jack nor Elizabeth moved a muscle as they stared down the barrel of the man's gun. The re-united trio remained motionless for mere seconds, a time that seemed eternally longer to the souls enduring it.

"Already done, mate.", Jack responded carefully, pulling his hands up in a defensive manner. "Twas nice while it lasted.", he added in a low tone clearly meant for he ears of another. Will's jaw visibly clenched as he took a step towards the captain, not in the least unclear about his purpose.

"This is not the time for joking, Jack. I don't suggest you tempt fate." Will let his guard down for only a second as he hesitatingly remembered the few misadventures they had shared. "Again."

Elizabeth's heart pounded fiercely as she stared at the harsh visage of her husband. Granted, he was no longer the man who she had married in many ways; however, she had never seen him look as fierce. His air was that of a lion on the prowl, a prisoner who knew he had nothing and was willing to risk everything. Will Turner was reckless, and that only frightened his wife more. She swallowed her fear and gathered the small bits of courage she could muster.

"Will—" her unsure voice spoke, drawing on all of the history between them to appeal to her husband. Elizabeth knew that it was risky to attempt to calm the man down, but between she and Jack, she was the only one who could do it.

"Elizabeth, don't." His strong voice pleaded, not electing to even look in her direction.

"Please, Will. Simply stop—"

"I said don't." He answered sharply, swinging the pistol towards the startled young woman in front of him. The pulse in Will's neck pounded visibly as he gained control of his own demons and fixedly tightened his grip on the rough metal in his hand.

"Elizabeth, you are returning with me. I don't need…or want an explanation." A hardly visible expression of pain passed over the sailor's face before he regained his composure. "Change your clothes." Jack's head swung in her direction as Will uttered the words, an interested expression on his face.

"Oh, wonderful, a show." He added in a lighthearted manner, hoping to ease the tension in the small cabin. Will did not seem to take kindly to Jack's enthusiasm.

"Change your clothes elsewhere." Will gruffly commanded, taking the gleam out of the captain's eyes and causing his wife to adopt a defiant edge.

"No, Will." Elizabeth's dark brown eyes were determined and set on her husband.

"Fine, then wear what you like. It's of little consequence."

Despite the impending threat in front of her, Elizabeth stepped towards Will, barrel leveled at her head. Hopefully, she could call his bluff.

"No, Will. I'm not following you." She turned towards her partner in crime for silent support. "I'm staying with Jack."

Jack noiselessly noted how Will's hand shook as he held a pistol to his wife's forehead, fighting the urge to back down. The situation was delicate, and Will did not want to give up his advantage. Seeing the weakness in the other's demeanor, Jack took hold of his chance.

"Ya know, mate, you're looking very tense." The captain began slowly sauntering towards the other wall of his quarters.

"Don't move, Jack." The panic in Will's voice was obvious, as he was struggling to retain the one card left in his hand.

"Ya know what calms me right down? Shooting an undead monkey."

"Jack please—" Elizabeth hissed a warning to the swaggering pirate behind her, not even daring to turn her head to look.

"But in lieu of said vermin—" Jack leaned his left arm out carefully, taking a firm hold of a bottle of rum next to him.

Anxiety pounded through every nerve in Elizabeth's body as she prayed she would not witness the death of her lover and, albeit unlikely, friend. Staring at Will's countenance, she saw a bead of sweat trickle down his strong jaw, a tell of his disquiet that only she would know. The situation was quickly becoming volatile, with only seconds before the inevitable explosion.

"Jack—" Elizabeth pleaded through her voice.

"I'm not afraid to kill you." As the words left his mouth, it was obvious that the pistol spoke more convincingly than Will ever would.

"A little rum could do you good—" Saying these words, Jack swung the hand containing the rum bottle towards Will, holding it out in a welcoming gesture. The sudden movement, however, did not calm the sailor down as much as Jack had hoped. With trained reflexes, Will pulled the trigger and Elizabeth took in a large gasp, whipping around to face the uncertain.

Jack stood with his mouth agape, staring down at the only remaining vestige of his first love: a broken bottleneck.

"You shot the rum."

The other two people in the room let out an audible breath as the tension released. Will lowered the pistol to his side, letting it hang limply in his tired hand. Like the calm after a storm, a languid feeling settled in the cabin.

A heavy knock sounded on the door, causing each person to jump, followed by the rough voice of the first mate.

"Everythin' alright in there, Cap'n?" Gibbs asked uncertainly. Will turned towards Jack, a quiet resignation in his eyes. It would be so easy for Jack to give him up, to win Elizabeth and everything else. Will knew he could, and would, justifiably be locked in the brig, an object of their ridicule.

"Not the opportune moment, mate." Jack responded, eyes turning to Will for a split second.

"Aye, Cap'n." Gibbs seemed satisfied with the bare knowledge that his captain was still alive and well, and dutifully left after a moment's pause. Will almost showed visible relief as the weathered sailor's footsteps were heard walking away.

Behind the two men, Elizabeth's slender hand shot out to balance herself on the post of the captain's bed as a dimness filled her vision; an action unnoticed by an all too busy pair. She swayed and faltered slightly, falling gently towards the floor. Both men turned just in time to see her sink downwards, but one reached her first.

Jack instinctively reached out to catch her, releasing the broken shards of glass from his palm and letting her rest in his tanned arms. Both leaned on the floor, forgetting the third presence in the room, and acting accordingly. Her fair skinned face gazed up at the pirate with a look of sudden concern. The woman's hand flew to her abdomen, breath stopping for an instant.

Will jerked towards his wife, a softened appearance temporarily eclipsing the anger he felt. Before he could reach Elizabeth, however, something froze the blood in Will's veins.

On the deck of the Captain's Quarters, Jack sat tenderly cradling Elizabeth Swann Turner, a strong hand covering hers and the developing child beneath. Will blinked hard, fighting back he knew not what.

The man stood dominatingly above the pair, an unforgiving demeanor about him and a degrading tone filling his voice.

"That's enough, Mrs. Turner."

"I'm no longer a child, Will. And you will not address me like one." Elizabeth sat up, the captain's hand behind her back.

"You are right, Elizabeth." Will retorted, fire bright in his eyes. "You are_ not_ a child; you're Jack Sparrow's whore."

Jack was up in an instant, sword freed from its scabbard and pointed squarely at Will's chest.

"That's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow to you."

Will hesitated for only a moment, stepping back to pull his sword out in a similar fashion, crossing blades with the pirate in front of him.

"I've asked ya before and I'll ask ya again. Do you think this wise, _boy_?" Jack bantered, emphasizing with sharp precision the last word spoken.

"I'm not afraid of cheating this time." Came the reply, confident and challenging.

"So ya have become a pirate, then." Jack smiled, revealing a mouthful of shining gold. "I knew ya had it in you."

"My wife is coming with me." Will pointed both the sword and his words at Sparrow as he spoke. "No matter what it takes."

Elizabeth, by this point standing at the foot of the bed, safely away from the conflict, spoke.

"Please, Will—Jack—no blood needs to be shed here!." The young woman implored.

"In that case," Jack's grin remained confident as he gestured at the double doors of his cabin, "after you, Mr. Turner. Wouldn't want to sully my quarters."

"It would be a shame to spill your blood on the furniture."

Both men walked into the bright Caribbean daylight, challenging footsteps resounding on the deck of the Pearl. Crewmembers tapped one another and stood as silent spectators, none wishing to interfere with the Captain or his business.

"Boy, it's not my blood we will be spillin'."

With a quick lunge, Will effectively rose to the challenge, sparking the clang of metal against metal. Jack blocked him with one smooth movement, the strike not intended for difficulty, but power. The object of the fighters' affections stood shaded in the doorway, her expression showing that, for once, she had absolutely no plan.

Within mere minutes the fight had elevated and the blows, parries, and blocks came closer together. The two men strode across the deck, hanging on rigging and conquering whatever unfortunate object happened to stand in their way.

The sound of clashing metal echoed across the deck of the Black Pearl, streaking across the Caribbean like a sea bird. Large steps brought the two to the stern of the ship, and quickly there was nowhere for either to go. Jack unfortunately was the lucky partner being slowly pushed towards the rail. Will's movements were coming on increasingly faster, while Jack's, for some reason, were slowing down.

Elizabeth followed their every move across the Pearl, unknowingly leading the crew with her. She wanted neither dead, which she knew. Any other point outside of that, however, was uncertain.

Jack's defenses weakened, but his confidence and cocky smile remained as he fought the young sailor opposite him. He seemed to have a higher purpose in mind as he parried each strike that came at him. Carefully Jack appeared to travel with every hit; one step back, one to the side, all leading inevitably towards Elizabeth. It was apparent that Will was the better swordsman, but that was not nearly enough to stop Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Give up, Jack, you're not going to beat me." Will yelled over the clamor of ocean waves and clashing swords. "I'm only giving you one chance."

Jack responded with a powerful blow, nearly catching the other fighter off balance and gaining a hit.

"Not necessary, mate." Spoken assuredly as Jack stepped further towards an unnerved Elizabeth.

Not wanting to stand in the way of two defensive men with swords, Elizabeth attempted to back into another direction. The crew, however, seemed determined to pigeon hole her in her current position. Nervous and alarmed, she did her best to flatten herself against the all too willing crew.

"I just want my wife, Jack, that's all." Came Will's voice, echoing on the bulkhead. His thrusts intensified, emphasizing his point and Jack strode increasingly closer to where the frightened young woman stood. With an elongated stroke, Jack blocked and pulled the blade over his shoulder in an arch motion.

"Ya can have her." The blade of Jack's sword swung back, finding slight resistance and finally coming to a stop on the deck of the Pearl. "_If_ she'll 'ave you."

A growing dark red stain fell on Elizabeth's shirtsleeve as she gripped it in pain. Through the torn fabric a long, slender cut could be seen, the product of Jack Sparrow's blade.

Elizabeth's large, brown eyes looked on him in disbelief as she struggled to prevent the blood from flowing onto her now tanned hands. Will strode over angrily, the swordfight now forgotten.

"The only blood you spilt was hers." Will muttered viscously, taking hold of his wife's shirtsleeve to tear as a tourniquet. His rough grasp was not what she desired, and Elizabeth pulled her arm away.

"I can take care of it myself, thank you." She said pointedly, looking first to her husband, then Jack. "This is my home, after all."

"Not for long, love, if it's not what ya want." A mischievous gleam in the pirate's eye told Elizabeth that she was not hearing the whole truth, but on her life she had no idea what he was up to.

"I'm going to go dress my wound. Thank you, Jack." Elizabeth said in a biting tone, striding towards the bow."

"Consider my offer, love." Jack threw after her. The only response he received was haphazardly chucked over the woman's shoulder.

"Do not call me 'love'."

_**W**ooohoo! That was a pretty good sized chapter for me! Shows what temporarily coming home from dorm can do. : ) Thanks again steph for the ping pong. Reviews and flames will encourage me to write sooner. **hint hint**_

**sorry for the sloppy chapter form, but i can't get rulers this time for some reason. / **


	15. Aye

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner, or any of the obvious people/places/themes taken from the movies. Those belong to the late great Walt Disney. And just in case they ever un-freeze him, I want to be free and clear. ; )

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it's been a while, but I've been adjusting to the first few weeks of college class stuff. And for anyone who's feeling maybe a little discouraged: college is so much easier than high school! Well, at least for me. Again, thanks so much for the reviews and especially for the warm wishes about school; I needed them. And it's true…that last chapter was REALLY soap opera-ish.

Sharp, angry footfalls sounded as Elizabeth paced towards the Captain's quarters, unceremoniously shutting the door behind her. The young woman still held her lacerated arm tightly, angled slightly into the air, letting adrenaline provide temporary pain relief. Swearing an un-ladylike oath under her breath, she shut her eyes tightly and tried to recall where any bandaging material could be hiding.

To say the least, Elizabeth was irritated. Even knowing Jack Sparrow as narrowly as she did, she knew that his little stunt had not been an unfortunate accident. Thanks to the sword happy Captain, she had become an unwilling participant in the prizefight over her marriage and herself. The two men had seemed to care more about their own egos than she, and the result was beginning to drip haphazardly onto the floor of the cabin. Holding the blood soaked fabric even tighter to her injury, Elizabeth's eyes lit upon something quite suitable for dressing her wound.

Walking with fierce strides across the reasonably sized room, Elizabeth temporarily let go of her injured arm and grabbed, with one hand, a corner of the large sheet covering Jack's bed. Propping her foot up on the bed, she began to tear at the fabric, using a worn hole in the sheet as her starting point. With a strength originating from more than just necessity, Elizabeth pulled a large strip from the linens and sat on the rest of the torn fabric, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Stifling a wince of pain, she pulled back the moist material covering the thin cut on her forearm, only revealing about a third of the lengthy slash. It was obvious that she would not be able to reach all of the laceration with her current clothing in the way. Gazing quickly from the makeshift bandage to the still concealed wound, Elizabeth sighed and began to pull her shirt off with one hand. None too easy though the process was, soon she was free of the restraining, blood saturated tunic and began to go to work.

Tired, calloused fingers pulled at the dingy fabric, attempting to form it into a tourniquet, but not quite hitting the mark.

"Bloody bandage." She muttered miserably, throwing it into a pile on her lap and leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling.

Two warm, unexpected hands made an extremely welcome debut on Elizabeth's neck at that moment, surprising her far less than they should have. The strong fingers began to slowly dig into the tight muscles in her neck, loosening them with each stroke.

"Ya shouldn't swear." A drawling voice pervaded behind her, "It's not very becoming."

"Jack, please don't—" The young but determined voice persisted. "I'm still angry with you." Elizabeth pulled away, wincing slightly at the sudden strong movement her sore arm underwent.

"Ahh, but tha's the thing," Jack continued, "ya just think you're angry wit' me, because of that _unfortunate_ mishap outside." The pirate picked up one end of the wad of fabric from Elizabeth's lap and stretched it out in his hands.

"No, Jack. I am, in fact, _very_ angry with you." With a piercing look, Elizabeth emphasized her meaning. "As is my arm."

"Well, that can be easily remedied." Jack began, wrapping the thin linen around Elizabeth's arm.

Tying a strong knot at the top, he added. "Don't know what yer expectin' to wear now that you've turned your vetements into a bloody mess, though. Perhaps nothing. It's a good look for you." The pirate openly stated, staring at Elizabeth's nearly bare torso in a suggestive manner.

"For your information, Captain, with the exception of a bit of blood, my _vetements_ are intact." Elizabeth retorted, adding the same emphasis as Jack had on his slaughtered French. "You'll find your bed cloths, however, are otherwise." She smirked slightly at her own devious actions.

"So they are, then." Jack did his best to deprive his counterpart of her sly satisfaction. "No matter. I always preferred sleeping in the buff anyway." He flippantly replied, leaving a purposefully vague aura around his statement. Elizabeth only arched an eyebrow in rebuttal and shook her head slightly, letting her hair fall onto her forehead.

"Will will be here soon. You really think it would improve matters for him to see you standing next to his partially disrobed wife?"

"Oh, that." Jack's head flipped to the side, beads jangling; the idea did not appear to faze him entirely.

"Yes, that."

"No worries. Mr. Turner will be sufficiently occupied for some time." Jack added with a grin, light glinting off of the gold in his mouth. A searching glance darted from Elizabeth's eyes as she looked at Jack; suspicion in her every move. "I figure he needs more than one third of a sail to make sail." He finished.

Elizabeth stood and grabbed her sullied shirt with one hand, attempting to pull it back over her head. "Jack, what exactly do you think you're doing in here?" She sighed out in one breath, weariness evident in her manner.

"It would appear that' I'm remedy-ing my little accident." He stepped closer to her, gesturing at the large makeshift bandage on her arm.

"I think we both know it wasn't an accident." She added quietly, hoping for an answer she herself could not identify.

"Maybe it wasn't, then." He slowly grasped part of Elizabeth's tunic and pulled it over her head, gently pausing once the hem fell to her waist. His hand rested lightly on the space below her ribs. "Neither was this. And I intend to take care of them both."

A shock of cold ran through Elizabeth's veins as she jumped out of the soft embrace, taking a step away from the man behind her.

"You're free ta' go, love." Jack's voice asserted, an evasive difference in his tone.

"And if I don't want to?" Elizabeth asked, a fragile, tender girl revealed under her mature exterior.

"The way I see it, Liz, Will is not goin' ta' leave this ship without you on his arm." Elizabeth gazed down at her wounded arm, a reminder of the lengths she would have to go to if she wanted to stay. "And I'm not willin' to lose ya."

The pirate stepped towards her and touched her face tenderly, tipping it up to meet his gaze.

"What do we do, Jack?"

"_We_ aren't goin' ta do anything." He soothed, "for now."

"What do you—" Elizabeth interjected in a bewildered tone. Jack, as the captain, would provide no room for arguments.

"Follow yer husband, have your child." Leaning down, he placed a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. To Elizabeth, the kiss seemed to hold a finality that frightened her. Jack's eyes locked onto hers as he spoke deeply.

"I _will _find you."

"Here, take this." Will placed a heavy mariner's coat on his wife's shoulders as she stared out blankly at the moonlit Caribbean. Elizabeth stood lifeless, not visibly reacting to the young man's care.

"Why don't you put one of my shirts on? Yours is torn near to shreds." He stated with an intentional emphasis that had little to do with the actual state of her clothing. Elizabeth only clutched the tunic tighter around her; it smelled of rum, sweat and salt.

"No thank you, Will. This is fine."

Will too looked out at the ever-moving waves, eyes fixed on an unattainable point. He did not vocalize what he was thinking, but only nodded in response to Elizabeth and turned on his heel.

"We've still hours to go before we reach Port Royal." He gazed softly at the young woman's slight frame as he spoke.

"When you feel like sleeping…" Will paused uncertainly before continuing. "Go where you like." The young sailor walked towards his quarters with even, steady steps, a heavy weight on his shoulders. His wife gave him one glance before turning back around.

Elizabeth moved one chilled hand to her cheek and wiped away the remnants of tears from her skin. She could not have felt more desired, yet she felt completely alone.

"Aye."

Well, maybe a little less melodramatic; definitely shorter. But, hey, I've only been writing it while my roommate has been gone and it's party night tonight! ; )

This chapter's for you, Steph. Happy school soon!


	16. It's Fine

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters….still. Although I do think I should get credit for the line "If it were a dream, there'd be rum." that is found in POTC2. Seeing as I wrote it directly after the first movie came out and …oh well, lost cause. Point is: not mine, don't bring legal action.

A/N: Yeah, I know, I'm a horrible person considering it has (yet again) been months. I'll choose to blame finals. Sorry. But the release of the second movie inspired me. : ) enjoy.

* * *

Will stood, back against a splintered wooden wall of his ship, doing the sum total of nothing. Well, that was not quite accurate. Will was, in fact, trying incredibly hard to **not** do anything. Closing his eyes to the oceans' sting, he attempted to slow his breathing, calm his heartbeat and, most of all, to suppress any thoughts of action. 

It could easily be said that Will Turner was a man of action, more willing to fight than flee. And at this particular moment it took all of the strength in him to resist the act of revenge. After all, to all appearances, he had more than enough reason to take vengeance. His wife had left him for an infamous pirate from whom he had to go to great lengths to steal her back. Surely he was well within his rights to perform whatever justice he saw fit. Yet as he stood mere strides away from his wife, Will could not bring himself to any of it.

The only hand he wanted to raise towards Elizabeth was in amity. It was that plain and simple. He wanted to be able to take her in his arms for the first time in months and not see a fight in her eyes. Somehow. To discover just what had gone awry and simply fix it. To stop the problem at its source and try to patch things up, not just dance around the truth. Will sighed heavily. If only he could.

Retribution, like reconciliation, did not seem to be in the cards, however. He would have to make due with what he was allowed, the meager amount that it was. Will reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a worn, roughened piece of paper. Opening the previously wax-sealed letter, he glanced over the familiar words yet again.

"…_it follows that you will conduct yourself as a proper gentleman."_ Will shook his head at the phrase as he continued to read. "_Furthermore, when you safely return to Port Royal, you will act in a manner befitting your station. Any inquisitions towards Elizabeth will be answered by you only, with little to no information. Elizabeth was visiting an ill cousin on a neighbouring island and her return is a blessing. Any other explanation and the marriage certificate and pardon I graciously bestowed upon you will be revoked. The consequences be on your head. And as for Elizabeth, you are her husband; Mr. Sparrow is not. Bring her to Port Royal and keep her there. As far as you are concerned, nothing ever happened. Act accordingly." _

Will did not need to read the signature again to know whose hand now controlled his fate.He looked up, refolding the letter, and tucked it back inside his vest pocket. His actions and words must now be those of a gentleman—the kind Elizabeth Swann was meant to have married. For all Elizabeth was concerned, Will was a new man, one nothing related to pirates. To her, he had permanently availed himself of his past life. Little did she know he was stuck snugly under the thumb of her father.

Will stepped out onto the deck and strode towards the helm, hoping to distract his occupied mind. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, as he heard the lilt of Elizabeth's voice.

"_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me_."

The tune carried on the wind as a dried leaf on the breeze, twirling and drifting, striving to attain no particular place and reaching its goal just as efficiently. Stepping in the direction of the singing, he saw Elizabeth standing on the deck, staring out to sea.

_"We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot. Drink up me hearties, yo ho."_

Elizabeth languished in the early morning twilight, eyes gazing on the ocean and hair blowing softly in the wind. Will took in the sight of her, as he stood closer to his wife than he had been in months. They rested but feet away from each other, only a small measure of wooden deck and the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow keeping them miles apart. Will knew that reconciliation between them would mean more than a quick sail back to Port Royal and another attempt at playing house, yet that seemed to be all the Governor would allow. Will quickly ran a hand through his hair and permitted himself the luxury of sinking deeper into thought.

"_We kidnap and ravage—"_

A loud creaking sound, nothing alien to a ship, resounded from the port side as Will's reverie was suddenly broken by a quick movement out of the corner of his eye. In a moment he saw the boom of the ship swing towards his wife and instinctively shouted as he begun to move forward.

"Elizabeth, watch---"

The warning broke off before it had even been entirely issued as Elizabeth ducked below the swing of the boom and smugly grinned back at her husband.

_"---and don't give a hoot._" Elizabeth simply turned back towards the churning waves. "_Drink up me hearties, yo ho."_ Will's eyes opened a little wider than usual as he carefully regarded the nearly fatal object.

"Jack taught me everything I needed to know." She curtly explained.

"I'm sure he did." Came the wracked response. Will moved to join his wife at the rail of the ship, sharing her longing stare. "You must have had to search pretty hard to find Jack, eh?"

"Has it ever been easy to find Jack Sparrow?" Elizabeth quickly laughed off the serious nature of the question.

"What makes you think he'll go out of his way to find you then?" He snapped back. It was immediately obvious that the receiving party did not appreciate the comment. Elizabeth sent a look of pure ice as she turned away, walking towards the bow.

"Because he said he would." She retorted, "and Jack Sparrow is more loyal than you think."

"To treasure and the _Pearl_, perhaps, but certainly not to you."

Though Elizabeth turned and gazed towards Will after the words left his mouth, she let silence reign between them. The look in her eyes spoke volumes to the man who had spent the better part of his adult life staring into them for answers. Though Will did not like to admit it, he knew that by insulting Jack Sparrow he had just hurt his own wife deeply; the two were now connected, which meant Will and Elizabeth were in uncharted territory.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—" The sailor's attempt at recovery were floundering terribly, so he abandoned the difficult path for one of distraction. "Good luck trying to see the _Pearl _from here." He gestured towards the railing, indicating her former actions. "You'd be better off sleeping now and waiting until the sun is up."

"That's not why I'm here, Will." Elizabeth lamely objected, now floundering herself. "I came up to see if I could be of any help." She proposed, glancing around the rigging.

"Thanks but no thanks." Will walked over to Elizabeth carefully, as if approaching a caged animal, not allowing the emotion in her eyes to escape his notice for a moment. "My ship is well enough staffed."

The two stood feet away from each other, neither willing to make a first move. To say that the situation between them was awkward was a monumental understatement. The truth of what had been done hung heavily on both, but seeing the truth and being the first to recognize it were entirely different sins. As a result, they were standing silently on a ship floating through the Caribbean in the early morning twilight, pretending that neither saw the veritable elephant in the room.

"I can't say I'm sorry for what I did." Elizabeth declared openly, fiery gaze fixed upon her husband.

"How can you—" Will began, releasing his anger and frustration, allowing weeks of built of emotion to explode. Elizabeth pulled her shoulders back further and stood up straighter; preparing herself for the battle of wills she had anticipated. Only a pregnant pause followed, however, as that argument never came. Without warning the image of a worn, well-read letter protruded into Will's consciousness and he simply stopped speaking.

"Fine. That's fine." was his only reply. Will's muscles tensed as he once again tried to keep himself from any action.

"That's it? That's it, Will?" Elizabeth stormed towards the stoic young man. "It's all fine?"

"Yes." The single hoarse word issued from a place too unfathomable to name, making it more powerful to Elizabeth than any bellowed threat could have been.

"You can take your coat back." She rejoined, pulling off the mariner's coat roughly and holding it in front of his chest. Will reached down firmly towards the offered object, wrapping his hand gently around Elizabeth's forearm instead.

"You're still bleeding." He softly pulled up the ripped arm of Jack's shirt to inspect the damage. "I can bandage this correctly."

"It's just _fine_, thank you."

"Please Elizabeth," he requested, "let me clean it."

"No." she spoke, taking her arm back and holding it possessively. "I can take care of it myself, thank you." Elizabeth threw at him, striding angrily back towards the entrance to the lower decks.

Will watched her disappear, listening to the click of her boots on the wooden boards until they faded away. Looking out onto the dusty rose of a slowly rising sun, Will Turner pounded his fist on the rail of his ship hard enough that it throbbed.

"Just like our child."

* * *

Well, that's it. Chapter 16. Thanks to Steph (as always. What would this story be without you?) and Jason Robert Brown's _The Last Five Years_ for musical inspiration while writing. I don't know about you folks, but I feel better now. : ) yeah, you can peg me with fruit later. Just please review with **something** for now. Thanks!! 


	17. Rumors

Disclaimer: I continue to not own the characters of Jack, Will, Elizabeth, Governor Swann, or Norrington. Or any other Disney character that may appear (cross your fingers for Mickey Mouse everyone)

A/N: Thanks so much for the kind and enthusiastic reviews! Really, I was waiting for some scathing comments regarding my lack of posts. Well, that may have been reflected in the review/footprint ratio. Too bad for me. Honestly, if not for the reviews, it would take a lot for me to keep writing. Because I really am that self centered. ; ) Oh, and I'm floating around in the Pacific right now (hooray Hawaii!) so that's definitely been some good inspiration. And just remember, I began writing this right after the first movie, so technically it's AU now.

* * *

**B**oot heels hit the freshly sprayed deck, moving with the precise, steady balance of one long accustomed to walking on water. The small ship swung back and forth in a familiar motion, swaying with the warm Caribbean Sea, under seagulls and a cloudless sky. To Commodore Norrington the day was as ordinary as any could have been. He strode calmly across the deck observing his men and generally enjoying one of the few routine sails he performed anymore. Beginning to round a corner, he heard two loud, raucous voices speaking of someone he knew quite familiarly.

* * *

**S**cratches of dark ink pooled in the soft curves of letter and words, shimmering in each brief moment before being absorbed by the parchment beneath. Each phrase glittered with its own meaning and color; nothing was mundane or obligatory. Governor Swann gently returned the quill to its place, pouring a routine amount of sealing wax on the fold of the paper and officiating it with his seal. Given that most of his adult life had been dedicated to an elaborate desk job, Weatherby Swann had long ago begun to appreciate the most insignificant aspects of his day. His tasks were performed with dignity and sincerity; from the largest orders to a written note, nothing was done carelessly.

The man had always been this way, as any professional friend, or even his daughter, could attest to. The Governor took an immense amount of pride in his word, an attitude that had taken him far both professionally and personally. He had, however, begun to slowly alter over the last several months, a fact which had not escaped even the lowliest person employed beneath him. Though Governor Swann was accustomed to long hours of work, he had never been one to put his personal life in a place of subjugation. As of recent months, though, he had begun to spend an increasing amount of time working, not permitting social visits beyond those necessary for the diplomacies of work. He had sunk into obscurity as far as he could manage, retaining an air of self-respect and dignity, yet not allowing many the chance to view it.

Though he had set ink to paper many times in an attempt to write to is daughter, nothing much had come of it, save a multiplicity of half written letters and sentiments lying stagnant in a locked drawer. He knew that the act of the letter writing itself was futile, since it, if actually completed, would likely never get to Elizabeth at all. If she ever could be found, he doubted that she would want to hear any of his thoughts; she rarely did anymore. With tired eyes and heavy heart he stared out onto the ebbing waves of the Caribbean. There lie a beauty so captivating, it stole his heart the first moment he set eyes on it; much like his wife had been, and much like Elizabeth.

His son in law had set out almost a month ago to search for his wife, armed with a stubborn resolve and one of the fastest ships the Governor could supply to him. Yet still no word had come and a cold, hard fear began to settle in Weatherby Swann's heart. He feared never seeing his daughter again, never hearing her laugh, never seeing her grow into the capable wife he knew she could be. He feared watching a decent man crumble into the void of a love lost with nothing to pull him back. Most of all, he feared never seeing his grandchild; or worse, meeting him for the first time at the gallows' platform. A concise knock on the thick wooden door to his office started him out of his reverie. The terse voice of his manservant emerged from the small crack now between the door and its frame as stood poised for response.

"Governor, Commodore Norrington is here to see you. " He intoned.

"Tell him to come back tomorrow morning. I will be prepared to see him then." The Governor replied in a voice lacking any emotion.

"Sir, he says it is a personal matter." The man paused appropriately and lowered his voice so as to keep in propriety with the sensitive nature of the matter. "It is concerning your daughter." At this, the older man's head turned attentively, nodding in a conservative manner of approval.

"You may send him in then. That is all." He spoke dismissively, once again taking his rightful position of power as he prepared to confront his once almost son-in-law.

"Yes sir." The door opened as if by unseen hands as James Norrington walked into the room. As he quickly surveyed the Governor's quarters he saw, but did not mention, the scattered, half completed pieces of parchment that called the office their home. He quickly sat down as the Governor gestured for him to do so.

"Governor, I have come here to a very specific purpose." The younger man started, leading his way into the uncomfortable subject.

"No need for pleasantries then, eh?" the Governor interjected, "Alright."

"Sir, I have come here because I have a sincere concern for Elizabe—" Norrington caught himself, "for Mrs. Turner."

"Yes, well, Commodore, I'm afraid you are not the only one." Governor Swann replied, shaking off the serious nature of the comment.

"I understand that sir. However, I'm not speaking out of a concern for your daughter's safety." He meticulously spoke. "But rather for her reputation." This announcement took the solemn father by surprise, breaking his carefully crafted exterior.

"What exactly are you referring to, James?" The lowered tone of his voice evinced emotion held deeply in check for quite some time.

"Surely you cannot be wholly unaware of the fact that Mrs. Turner is gaining a rather…" The Commodore paused, cautiously searching for the appropriate words. "unsavory reputation in Port Royal." Leaning forward, he dropped his voice so that it was difficult for even Governor Swann to hear. "I have tried to put an end to it whenever it is in my control, sir, but---" The Governor immediately interrupted, standing so as to make his position clear.

"I appreciate your intent, Commodore Norrington, " Swann spoke, once again bringing up a front, "but your concern is misplaced. When Elizabeth returns, as far as anyone is concerned, she will have been visiting a cousin. Mr. Turner has already given me full assurance that he will propagate the story to the best of his ability and I expect you to do the same, Commodore." Norrington now stood also, not one to abate a fight he knew he should win.

"With all due respect, sir, what is to keep Jack Sparrow from showing up here, in Port Royal and claiming the child, your grandchild, as his own?" James Norrington calmly questioned.

"That is an absurd assumption, Commodore and I would advise you to remember exactly who you are addressing in the future." Weatherby Swann commanded, barely covering the exposure he felt at Norrington's supposition.

"Sir, I believe we both know as well as Mr. Turner does that your daughter was not alone the night Jack Sparrow escaped." Norrington quietly asserted. "It is not unthinkable that Sparrow would attempt to claim the child as his own. If for no more reason than to gain leverage over whatever power he can claim in Port Royal."

The Governor of Port Royal, Jamaica sat back down in his chair quietly, as if to keep from disturbing so much as a piece of dust fluttering through the air. Norrington watched the broken man and then sat down himself, offering what professional comfort he could through his words.

"How long have you known of this?" Swann asked in a worn, defeated voice.

"Almost since it happened, sir." He responded. "I've told no one and I do not intend to change that." Norrington paused, looking Governor Swann straight in the eyes. "I cared for your daughter very much."

A moment of understanding passed through the two men as they sat in silence, neither able to comfort the other in the way he required. Finally it was Governor Swann who broke the quiet.

"You're a good man."

The Commodore quickly cleared his throat, blatantly moving the conversation from the personal place it had begun to languish in.

"What I mean, Governor, is that some sort of action must be taken."

"If Sparrow dares to show his head in Port Royal, we will help him to find a place for it." Swann stated bluntly.

"Understood." He curtly replied. "However, it seems that it may be wiser to assure Sparrow never makes it to Port Royal, save in the hands of His Majesty's Navy."

Governor Swann narrowed his gaze towards the young Commodore and carefully leaned forward across his desk.

"What exactly are you proposing?"

* * *

"**W**hy, Captain, be we sitting pretty and mindin' our own business when there's probable loot to be had?" Gibbs asked in a manner barely hiding his frustration.

A bright turquoise sea swirled around the _Black Pearl_ and her crew as they sat unassumingly anchored near a small coral reef. The sun beat down brightly, sucking the energy out of a crew who sat lackadaisically on the deck of the ship, drinking and sleeping. The pirate ship resembled more of a pleasure cruise than a group of feared, weathered sailors.

"Because _we_," Jack emphasized, "are just comin' out a being narrowly trailed by William Turner and, I'd imagine, some o' the British fleet the ol' Governor's got him working for."

"Doesn't seem like you ta be hidin', Captain." Gibbs carefully ventured.

"I am _not_ hiding." Jack asserted in a proud way, turning to face Gibbs. "I am waiting for the opportune moment."

"Well, Cap'n" Gibbs began, "in that case, some of the men seem ta think Tortuga to be a ideal place ta wait for that moment."

"Aye, perhaps i' tis." Jack drawled lazily, only his eyes betraying the alert manner in which his brain was working. Gibbs stood staring at his Captain's back, waiting for the man to finish his thought, or at least share it with his First Mate. When Jack Sparrow merely slunk down to the deck like the rest, Gibbs sighed and spoke.

"Jus' as long as we get yer word that we'll be piratin' before we've forgot how ta do it." The First mate cajoled, wiping the beads of sweat off of his forehead and taking a quick drink from his flask.

"Aye." Jack Sparrow tilted his hat forward, shading his eyes from the sun and crossing his arms over his chest. Gibbs noticed that the left corner of his mouth tilted up ever so slightly as he spoke, creating a sly smile. "An' I know just the place."

* * *

Ah. That felt good to get out. It actually flowed pretty well for me, hope it was just as good for you. ; ) Again, thanks so much for all the reviews and keep them coming, good or bad. That last one was actually the spur for me to write this chapter. So thanks: D 


	18. Red Sky at Night

_Disclaimer: Not mine. Seriously. Deal with it. ; )_

_A/N: So, again, I'm a horrible person and forgot that I had even posted the last chapter at all. However, I was in the Caribbean for Spring Break and saw the "At World's End" trailer. (My muse just struck again) and here I am. Hooray. And if you're still here, thanks! You should get a cookie for that…or come help me take the Orlando poster off my ceiling tonight before the fire safety people fine me. Seriously. I'm tall, but I'm not THAT tall. _

"**Why** are we sailing in circles?"

Elizabeth stood at the ship's rail, hands firmly planted, small body swaying with the beating of the waves.

"We are plotting a different course." Will responded from several feet behind her, gazing out at the passing landscape.

"You mean we're not returning to Port Royal? We're going somewhere else?" Elizabeth questioned, turning her head sharply towards her husband.

"No, we're plotting a different course, Elizabeth. Nautical term." The Caribbean breeze blew Will's hair around his tanned face and into his eyes. From where Will stood, he could see a soft orange glint from the setting sun reflected on Elizabeth's cheek and her hair blowing softly with the warm trade winds; closing his eyes tightly, he looked away.

"And we **are** returning to Port Royal, don't worry. We just need to wait until sundown to do it."

"There is no sun in the sky, Will. That would generally be considered sundown." She replied in a sharp quip, "What now?"

"We sail into Port Royal, unload the ship and go home." The young man paused momentarily, a slight sag in his shoulders. "As quietly as we can."

"That's all?" Elizabeth turned on him suddenly and without warning. "We've been sailing around for over an hour so you don't have to face the humiliation of coming home with me? Of the town seeing Elizabeth Swann Turner, your fallen wife?"

"No, Elizabeth." Will carefully stepped over to her and raised a hand to her cheek for only a moment, hesitation getting the best of him. Elizabeth stared directly at him, neither flinching away from the warm gesture, nor reciprocating. "You know that's not the reason."

She knew. Facing Port Royal again meant many things to Elizabeth, almost none of them good.. Despite the humidity, her shoulders shook beneath Jack Sparrow's worn tunic as she thought of walking down Main Street. By now they must have all heard, Elizabeth mused The gossiping vulchers of the town would swoop down and devour her whole, regardless of what Will claimed or said. And her child. She knew they would be merciless to him. As if in response to her concern, the small child kicked, a mere fluttering reminder to his mother. Elizabeth held her stomach softly, doing her best to protect the infant.

"Are you alright?" Will asked softly, concern evident in his voice.

"Hmm?" Elizabeth dreamingly spoke. "Uhh—yes. Yes, I'm fine. The baby was kicking. Do you want—" The question trailed off into an awkward silence between the former lovers.

"Yes." The word entered the space between the two, lingering momentarily. No more than a second later, Will's head jerked upwards in response to the calling of his crew. "Yes! Now is fine." Will called, addressing those seeking instruction.

"You had better prepare, Elizabeth. We're home." He said, turning on a dime and stalking away.

Elizabeth trailed closely behind Will, catching up quickly. "I find, Mr. Turner, that I am already well prepared to step foot in my own home." Will whipped around and spoke in a low tone within inches of his wife's lips.

"It is my home too, Elizabeth. Please—" His voice was grave, though not angry and his eyes intent. "Please." Elizabeth saw his strong hands rise near her waist and jerk away, an instinct from times long since past. For one second as she stood facing her husband all things seemed to dissolve. Only sense existed. She could hear blood pulsing in her ears, feel muggy dampness on her skin, taste salt on her lips. Water lapped hungrily against the ship's hull and Elizabeth reached towards Will.

Elizabeth felt a small spark as her skin brushed his. By the time her hand found Will's, he had already turned to leave.

**The** dying sun splashed dusty blue and orange through a small porthole in Will's cabin, landing playfully on Elizabeth's bare shoulder. The soft skin stood alone, absent of Jack's torn shirt, for the first time in many hours. Elizabeth stood naked for but a moment, allowing both herself and her body time to breathe. She carefully stepped over to a single dress lying on a chair in the corner of the cabin.

Elizabeth walked gracefully now, first days at sea long behind her. No longer did she simply know how to accomplish the many necessary tasks of a working ship, legal or otherwise. Her once soft hands could now climb, fasten and secure, working quickly to do whatever needed doing. Calluses formed right away, an outward sign of the inner changes that had occurred during Elizabeth Swann's short stint with Captain Jack Sparrow. Her skin was tanner, eyesight keener and knowledge wider. Why, then, did she still feel entirely uncertain of what to do?

Elizabeth's past faced her in the form of a tight fitting dress, alluring and revolting her at the same time. Intently challenging the dress and all it represented: Jack Sparrow's worn tunic, lying discarded on the cabin floor several feet behind her. Elizabeth stood between past, present, and future in the innocent forms of mere fabric. Closing her eyes to the stifling heat of the cabin she solidly placed her feet in front of her until the imposing, restrictive garment sat calmly in her grasp. Calloused fingers pulled at the ties of the dress' firm back with the agility that only results from custom. Elizabeth stared at the small glint of light reflecting off of a glass bead sewn into the bodice and, wondering at herself, began to rifle through the skirts and pull the dress over her head. The fit was snug even without full lacing, but Elizabeth felt no worry. Drawing the ties through the back of the dress to the best of her ability, Elizabeth's eyes shone and she began to stand up straighter as a new resolution found her. Leaning down to the discarded piece of fabric on the floor, she picked up Jack's shirt and folded it neatly, leaving it the place her dress had once occupied. Though uncertain, Elizabeth was ready.

**Two** large men, both carrying surly expressions on their weather worn faces, bore an even larger and more ornery looking trunk onto the dock, letting it hit the swaying wood heavily. Will watched through the evening light as his ship unloaded. Though he could have ordered the task undone until morning, Will thought it best to avoid all exposure of himself or his possessions to the public eye until some time had been afforded. 'Elizabeth is to be treated in this same manner', he thought, gazing into the flickering lights of the thriving port town. 'Though she is certainly not my possession. Far from it.' He brooded in the darkness. 'She is not even fully my wife.'

"Are you nervous?" A confidant voice broke through his thoughts, echoing in the space behind him.

"No." He replied simply to Elizabeth in a matter-of-fact tone. "Nor should you be."

"Nor am I." Came the confident rebuttal.

"Good." Will spoke lamely. A small wave of surprise hit him as he stood, gazing at his wife in a dress for the first time since he had recovered her. "Where's Jack's shirt?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop or even analyze them, but Will remained firm in his stolid emotional mask.

"Does it matter, Will?" She responded calmly. Try though he might, Will could not respond to his wife's question, and only stood silently in reply.

"Now tie this for me." Elizabeth turned around to expose the poorly laced dress to her husband. Stepping closer to her, he feebly tightened the laces and tied them together in the middle of the backside, leaving half of Elizabeth's back exposed.

"Doesn't seem to fit quite the same." Elizabeth softly explained, silently wishing she were wearing something more comfortable and infinitely more comforting. As if on cue, a small scent of salt and spice filled her nostrils, taking her mind far away from Port Royal and Will Turner. Catching herself in her thoughts, Elizabeth withdrew back into the rigors of reality and turned around towards Will, banishing all thoughts of Jack's warm touch.

"That's all right," The tone of Will's words was warmer than any he had given Elizabeth in a long time and her heart beat faster as he finished his sentence. "wear this. It will cover the laces and keep you warm." Will once again slid a heavy mariner coat off his shoulders and into his hands, placing it firmly on his young wife's shoulders. As she breathed in, she could smell him on it. It did not smell of spice or rum.

Elizabeth's eyes passed over the flickering city lights, sighing deeply as she saw a familiar carriage stop in front of the entrance to the dock. "Are you sure about this, Will?" She questioned.

"I am." Will gently placed his hand on the small of Elizabeth's back, leading her onto the docks and into a life all too familiar. "After you, Mrs. Turner."

_OK, so before anybody kills me, just know that I haven't written Jack out of the story or Elizabeth's life. Just have patience. : ) Thanks Steph, you're awesome as always. Please let me know if there were moments that seemed out of character as I'm afraid I may have fallen into that trap. Happy reading (and reviewing)! _


	19. An' A Bottle of Rum

A/N: Yeah, so I had good intentions. Does that count for anything? Not really, I know. I meant to write more earlier and….well, it just didn't happen. My bad. Please feel free to attack at your leisure. Despite only getting a few reviews for all the hits, I'm adding another chapter (which probably shows my weakness when it comes to sticking to my rule of not posting without enough reviews). Oh well. Oh, and I apologize for the weird formatting of the last chapter, the editing program on the site did not like me at all. So just to reiterate and save my own neck, this chapter will have Jack. Seriously. Now please. Review. ; )

THANK YOU to those who reviewed chapter 18, you guys are lovely. And thank you to the people who have been loyally reading despite my lack of updating. Love you guys!

* * *

** A** small dart of pain shot through Jack Sparrow's eyes as he moved from the bright Caribbean light to the darkness of his cabin, a haze of green in front of him. He walked with measured steps, swaying only slightly with the rocking of the _Pearl_. Jack loved his ship, and knew it well, down to the last barnacle. This fact made it all the more peculiar when he walked into his own cabin and smelled a scent other than his own. As the blur of green quickly cleared, Jack lips curled into a smug grin.

"Elizabeth."

The slim female figure turned smoothly to face the Captain, smiling warmly at his appearance.

"Hello, Jack."

Jack stepped towards Elizabeth Swann, taking a piece of her light brown hair and rubbing it between his fingers, as he looked her up and down.

"You look lovely. Edible, even." He spoke clearly, free of the slur that through either personal choice or alcoholic influence usually plagued him, surprising even himself.

Elizabeth quickly closed the gap between them, moving seemingly without taking any strides.

"Feel free to taste." Her eyes sparked in the shadowy cabin, protected from the fierce Caribbean sun, and Jack could not take his eyes off of her. Lithe and strong, helpless and brutal, the woman drew all men to her effortlessly. And the Captain was caught in her spell.

Before another breath could be taken her lips were on his, soft and demanding. Elizabeth Swann had always been a woman difficult to tame, and Jack Sparrow was a man who thrived on challenge. As far as he could tell, it was a match made by the gods. The kiss intensified, and Jack's hands roamed from his lover's neck down her arms, settling slowly on her thin waist.

His eyebrows rose in surprised satisfaction as he slowly pulled away from Elizabeth and remarked, "I'd just like to say how fully I support your decision to partake in a lack of clothing, Miss Elizabeth."

"I'm surprised that I could so easily catch the infamous, very talented, and widely loved Captain Sparrow off his guard." Elizabeth purred gently in his ear, kissing it softly.

"You did NOT catch me off guard," he emphasized, turning his head into hers, "although I may've been the slightest bit gob smacked."

Stepping back so as to be fully seen, Elizabeth's lips pulled into a mischievous smile. "Why should you be, Jack? After all, this is your dream."

Jack flinched as Elizabeth's form blurred to the degree that he could no longer see it. His expression turned to one of extreme dissatisfaction and he approached imaginary Elizabeth in an attempt to best her at her own game. Or was it his? Jack's brow furrowed at the thought. After all, if she was simply a figment of his imagination, then… Shaking his head as if to physically clear it, Jack returned to the source of his forced and unwelcome contemplation.

"My dream." he responded in a self-important tone, smirking at his assumed victory over himself, "So why aren't you naked?"

The illusionary and now fully clothed Elizabeth gazed back at the Captain with the calm, certain air Jack had come to strongly hate.

"Because, Mr. Sparrow, I'm married."

* * *

** J**ack sputtered and coughed, sitting up with a violent motion in his bed and narrowly missing an uncomfortable fall onto the deck of his cabin.

"Blasted dreams should do wha' you tell 'em to." He mumbled in an ornery tone, rubbing the back of his now sore neck. Jack's tongue smacked against the roof of his mouth in an unsatisfied manner, serving as a strong reminder to the lack of any pirate-y beverage in his system. Reaching to the floor next to his bed Jack ran his hand along the rough planks of wood, finding only pieces of candle wax, several crumbs of stale bread, and enough dust and dirt to conquer a broom in one foul swoop. Not reaching the one material object he desired, Jack stood and began to peruse the cabin for something to quench his thirst.

The captain, although usually desiring to be prepared at all times, had developed the habit of sleeping in the nude. This was sometimes due to the warm climate of the Caribbean, occasionally because of his own ego, and always to the annoyance of the crew. Never before had this fact phased Jack Sparrow; Joshamee Gibbs, however, did not seem nearly as amused. This was the exact expression that played over the first mate's face as he opened the door to the captain's quarters. The heavy knock he had placed on the door had apparently not left Jack with enough time to put on what would be, in Gibbs' mind, a satisfactory amount of clothing. That is how, upon opening the door, Joshamee Gibbs found his captain standing naked in his quarters, covering himself with only a dignified look and one strategically placed bottle of rum.

"Cap'n!" Gibbs quickly averted his eyes to the deck of the ship, a not entirely prepared look on his face. "Give a man some warning." He mumbled helplessly.

Jack merely strode confidently over to Gibbs and handed him the bottle of rum, issuing an even more disagreeable look from the first mate. "It's empty." With this statement he turned back around and began to gather his belongings.

"Uh…yes, Cap'n." Gibbs started, stepping into the Captain's quarters, yet still managing to keep his distance from the not yet clothed Jack. "That's what I came ta talk to you about."

Not turning around to address Gibbs directly, Jack began pulling on his boots in a haphazard manner. "Proceed."

"Well, Cap'n…the crew and I all agree that we're 'bout due for a bit o' fun. If ya know what we be meanin'." He gestured quickly to the empty bottle of rum. "And female comp'ny seems ta be scarce since Miss Elizabeth left."

Gibbs did not notice that the name elicited a small reaction from the Captain, his right shoulder twitching in response, quickly covered by his standard, carefree manner.

"Tha's where you're wrong, ya see." Jack began, "Lizzy never was much fun ta begin with. Always needs rescuing. Frankly I'd call it a bit o' a hero complex." Gibbs only stared in response, seemingly not quite convinced by Sparrow's performance. Jack continued anyway.

"I had ta let her go. Poor thing." After a moment of showy despair, Jack pulled his arm around Gibbs in a chummy manner. "That---is why we need ta find REAL women."

"Aye, Cap'n. Agreed." Gibbs squirmed away from the grasp, dropping the empty bottle on the deck. "An' I be thinkin' we have the perfect solution."

"Ahh." Jack grinned contentedly and stepped close enough to see each dirty pore on the fist mate's face. "It has been some time, hasn't it? She probably missed me."

* * *

** T**he heavy heel of Jack's boots clicked on the rough, badly maintained cobblestone of the small port city and stopped abruptly at a cross roads, causing Joshamee Gibbs to stumble into him. The older sailor quickly mumbled an apology and backed away from the captain.

"Been far too long, Cap'n." Gibbs remarked while glancing around the street, no particular end in mind.

Small, dingy storefronts sat quietly, each containing a tiny, unassuming patronage. The city was not as it used to be, the only indicator of its former strength the unused space along the waterfront. Many things had happened since Jack Sparrow had last walked along these same eroded, uneven streets. Although the faces and events had changed, Jack was certain that she would still be there. The woman was as sturdy and steadfast as the land itself and would not allow anything, or anyone, to demolish her. A small gleam appeared in Jack's eye as he thought of another, younger woman, whose spirit was a spitting image. No doubt Elizabeth's child would be able to withstand whatever difficulties came with being the child of a pirate. If he was anything like his mother. Or his father.

"Jack Sparrow!" a shrill voice called, pulling the man out of his daydreaming. Following the sound, Jack pulled out of his private thoughts and turned his attention towards the woman, trying desperately to recognize and, more importantly, attach a name to her face.

"Jack, do ya not remember me?" The as yet unnamed woman threw at him, stepping close. Jack fumbled for words only momentarily, deftly trying to avoid the storm he knew would soon hit him. Sensing an oncoming confrontation he would not want to be a part of, Gibbs seized the opportunity to run.

"Well, I think I'll be leavin' ya ta your business." Gibbs interrupted, turning quickly to go down the opposite street.

"I's a good thing y'aren't in any honest line of work, Gibbs." Jack retorted none too subtly, "Leavin' a man behind."

"Sorry, Cap'n." Was the only response as Gibbs tipped his head slightly towards his superior and was swallowed by the darkness of an alley. Mumbling curses under his breath, Jack merely returned to his admirer and turned on the charm.

"Apologies, my dear." Jack searched her face desperately for some clue that would lead him towards her identity, but none came. On some small level, Jack was unnerved that he was, once again, weaved into a situation that would require him to weasel his way out. On a completely different level, he was as pleased as he could be that there had been enough women in his life to merit the disappearance of a few here and there.

"I don't seem ta be able to recall your lovely face." Slowly moving his hand towards her cheek, he continued. "But if you'd like ta refresh my memory." The woman's arm came up swiftly and without much warning. Jack had faced this sight frequently enough before and prepared himself for a sharp sting on his skin. As he winced in preparation, however, Jack realized that the slap never came. Before he could contemplate this strange event, he felt the woman's short arms attempt to wrap around him. Frozen with a furrowed brow and quizzical look for only a moment, Jack soon took his own arm and snaked it around her waist, hopeful for a little entertainment before finding the other woman he sought. Lost in optimistic expectation, Captain Sparrow did not notice the large, lingering shadow behind him and was even more surprised when he suddenly saw the ground rushing towards his face.

* * *

**D**ark green eyes studied Jack Sparrow as he slowly opened his own tired and uncertain eyes to the dim light of a peeling parlor. His head ached more than when he could last remember; yet Jack had no recollection of the drinks that had taken him there. Unfortunate, he thought, to gain all of the punishment and none of the fun. Attempting to discover the full extent of the damage, he began to pull his head up and sit on his elbows. A strong, slender hand pushed him firmly again onto what felt to Jack like a rather unfortunate bail of hay. Jack muttered at the ill-fated caregiver, speaking phrases only the most stalwart individual could stomach. Lucky for Jack, his audience was indeed that kind of person.

"Stop your whining, Jack Sparrow. Or you won't get any bed at all." The deep female voice had the texture of cigar smoke, smooth and full of character. Jack recognized it immediately. "Annie." He smiled faintly. "Annie…What was yer last name again?"

"There's no sense in learning it, Jack. It'll just change again."

"Ah, so I see the innocent victims keep coming, Madame Guillotine." Jack opened his eyes once more, focusing this time on the soft features of his caretaker. The woman was precisely the way he had remembered her, though some faint lines had appeared around her eyes and mouth since he had last enjoyed her presence. He watched as she poured a cup of strong tea into a delicately painted teacup, brought by some trader at some point in exchange for some favor or another. Jack did not ask, and did not need to; he had seen the cup many times before while sitting in the presence of this "proper prostitute" as she had come to be known. The woman, finished pouring, dropped in a slice of lemon that had clearly already been used for tea that day and pulled it to her lips. Noticing Jack's careful stare, she responded.

"No, you do not get any. Not after your behavior earlier" The Madame replied, streaks of silver hair shimmering in the light of dusk, "And don't look at me like I've taken something precious from you simply because you're missing some clothing."

Annie spoke with a refined manner unseen by other women of her profession anywhere else in the Caribbean, or at least as far as Jack had experienced. Her smoky voice carried the small accent of one from a distant shore and stood out amongst natives and other residents. Hailing from one of the colonies in America, Annie must have had her reasons for an escape to the underworld of the Caribbean Sea, but never explained, instead letting her demeanor speak for itself. Jack had not asked, either out of indifference or respect for the mysterious woman.

"What behavior?" Jack countered offensively, "And where is my shirt?"

"Forgetting that poor girl's name." Annie responded between sips of tea. "I don't know what her husband was more upset about: that she obviously remembered you or that you didn't have the faintest idea of who she was." Jack merely turned his head at the accusation, smirking darkly at his companion.

"They can't all be as charmin' as you, luv." He tempted, leaning closer.

"It will not work, Jack." The woman replied, taking his lead and moving towards him slightly, curling around to face his bare chest. "Not unless I want it to." She ran her bare hand along his collarbone, to his shoulder and down his arm. Jack closed his eyes and breathed a satisfied sigh, fully enjoying the benefit of her experience. His head began to spin, and he let it do what it wanted to.

"How does that feel, Jack?" A young, eager voice questioned in the pirate's ear as he lay next to the heat of a crackling fire, a slight weight on his frame. Elizabeth's slim finger traced the sinews of his arms and chest with light touch. The soft, white sand beneath him cushioned the two of them as they lay together under the stars of the Caribbean sky. The cool night air smelled of firewood and salt. "Jack?"

Annie's lips lingered on the pirate's cheek, her warm breath rolling over his skin. "The usual?" She questioned in a tone that was less than strictly business. Opening his eyes to flickering candlelight on peeling yellow and green wallpaper he quickly breathed in his surroundings. "Aye." He managed to push out of his lips, lying deathly still in the shock of what his mind had just done. Attempting to focus on the moment, he shook the Elizabeth Swann of former days out of his mind and felt the touch of Annie's carefully curled hair on his forehead.

As he blinked slowly, Elizabeth's dark eyes appeared above him, sparkling with the orange and yellow of the fire glowing close by. "Could I come with you, Jack?" she questioned dreamily, "To be a pirate…it must be wonderful."

"I guess ya could say that, luv."

"Elizabeth." She protested, any shy mannerisms long past. "When you call me 'luv' it makes me sound like some notch on your bedpost."

"And what makes ya think you're not?" He questioned in a manner Elizabeth could not see as anything but serious.

Jack could feel Elizabeth's breathing quicken as the realization hit her. The young woman rolled back to sit on the sand, the now dimming fire between them. "Jack?" A heavy silence hung in the air as Elizabeth's fragile emotions sat on one word.

"It's Captain Sparrow, luv."

Jack could still see Elizabeth's footsteps in the cool sand as she ran back towards Port Royal, her father and her new fiancé; something in him could never quite forget it.

"Why are you here, Jack?" Annie's strong voice rung out, forcing his eyes open. She reclined now at the end of the shabby cot, pinning her curls up once again and sipping the tea, still steaming in its cup. The pirate's mouth went dry as all witty anecdotes fled from memory. "Who is she?"

"Who is who, luv?" He lazily drawled in an attempt to cover the exposure he felt at the prostitute's accusation, turning over to grab a half empty bottle of liquor left by the last patron.

"You are running, Jack Sparrow. And I refuse to help you." The strength in her dark green eyes remained, but as she continued to speak to the man a new softness surrounded it, like a ship in foggy waters.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow" He covered. "There've always been others."

"None like her." Annie's bare foot swung contemplatively over the edge of the mattress, revealing a youth Jack had not seen in years. "You let her in, Jack."

The pirate's eyes flashed a serious warning at the woman, but she continued without regard.

"If you hadn't been knocked out I could have never gotten that shirt off of you. You keep your fair distance from everyone."

"Seems I'm justified, doesn't it?" he glared, leaning dangerously close to Annie's small frame. Refusing to back down from his challenge, the older woman simply held his gaze.

"I put it over there" she threw out to him, pointing towards a dingy, but nicely folded, white tunic in the corner of the room. Jack quickly got up and grabbed the shirt, pulling it over his head. Annie merely stared at him calmly.

"Those nail marks on your back aren't mine, Jack." Her silky voice intoned. "And as long as you are hiding, you are not welcome here."

Jack Sparrow gazed around the room quickly for the rest of his effects, grabbing them with the anger that only issues from a deep wound. Pulling his sword form its belt he had the point at Annie's throat in less than a second. The hardness in his eyes showed a solid determination, but his hand shook every so slightly as he held the weapon. Annie's demeanor never wavered.

"Stop running Captain."

A ship's bell clanged in the distance as Jack stared into the truthful eyes of his long time friend. Replacing his sword and turning towards the door in one movement, Jack threw a gold coin into Annie's lap. Her red lips curled into a smile as she rolled the payment in between her fingers and listened to Jack Sparrow walk away. For once, she was unsure. She hadn't the slightest idea of whether or not she would ever see Jack Sparrow again.

"Goodbye, Jack."

* * *

Yay! Okay, to all of you who may have wanted a new chapter: you were right, I was wrong. I really liked this one a lot and I hope you did too. If not, of course, you can always flame me and let me know. My bodyguard will take care of all of that. Oh! Quick note: the mention of "madame guillotine" is, in fact, not historically accurate since the timing of the story and the invention of the guillotine do not in fact match. I could not, however, resist this wonderful reference. So please, forgive me. : ) Once again, thank you Steph with all of your help on the all important two questions. Hope you enjoyed! 


	20. Mother Nature

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters, Pirates of the Caribbean (ride or movie) and sincerely beg apologies if a lawsuit ever begins to hover over my head. Oh, and I make good cookies. **winks to Disney lawyers**

A/N: So, this post came up much quicker than most of them usually do. I guess this is what happens when I really like the last chapter I've written. Sadly, didn't like to put the last chapter up with the rest of them on the normal page. I think I was relegated to the "hasn't posted in forever" page and left in darkness. Oh well, thank you deeply to the wonderful three people who reviewed. You guys know who you are and you made me amazingly happy. Just because of that, this chapter's for you. Unless you don't like it, in which case I'll let the Disney lawyers have it. And the peacock outside of my window. Seriously, anyone want a free bird?

* * *

Each settler, pioneer or adventurer faces in his or her journey a question that has confronted mankind since one person dared to walk beyond their familiar horizon: is man stronger than nature? Or, despite every effort of civilization, has nature, through the mere fact that she still exists, proven herself superior? Such thoughts are heavy and burdensome to any individual mind to bear, especially in a place where nature already has the upper hand.

James Norrington breathed in the thick, humid air of the Caribbean deeply, picturing a cool winter morning in his mind as he exhaled in a calculated manner. His hands were held tightly behind his back in customary fashion, fingers grasping fingers in an effort to not rip off the wig and woolen uniform he was required to wear. For years Norrington had fought against the idea of the Caribbean: the wild, untamed, unordered environment challenged his authority at every turn. Occasionally he feigned victory, proudly wearing thick garments and powdered wigs despite the oppressive heat and humidity. Today was certainly not one of those days. Today, the Caribbean was proudly proclaiming victory.

Blinking away the glare of sunlight shining off of a window of the Governor's mansion, the man turned his head, allowing a new drop of sweat to drip down his face. Out of sheer habit, he wiped it away with his hand. The warm weather was not the only issue that had succeeded in getting under his skin this day.

Norrington quickly flicked his gaze back to the Governor's residence as he saw the form of Elizabeth Swann Turner move in a large bay window. From this distance he could see little more than the large entourage of fabric following her slim form and the way in which her gaze was fixed—towards the unending blue of the ocean.

The Commodore had heard tell that the Turner's had come back to Port Royal, returning in the dark of evening when few were likely to have seen them. Frankly, Norrington thought to himself, it all seemed a bit over dramatic. True, unlike the others, he knew the real reason for Elizabeth's sudden disappearance. But if the young couple did not wish to arouse suspicion and gossip, washing in like driftwood was not the best way to do it.

Faithful to his word, James Norrington had done his best to deter the spread of "false" stories within his men, but knew it was all in vain. So did several others, he ventured. Elizabeth had not stepped foot out of her father's house, now the temporary residence of the couple, since she had mysteriously returned and he had begun to silently wonder if she weren't a mere apparition. He wiped yet another bead of sweat off of his tired brow and walked over to small globe perched on his desk, arbitrarily spinning it as his own thoughts continued to swirl.

Like everything in the relentless Caribbean Sea, Elizabeth had been taken over. Norrington thought back to the girl he once knew: clean, bright dresses, curls bouncing about her freckled face. Elizabeth Swann had been the perfect model of modern civility to the Commodore, making her the ideal choice for his wife. Norrington saw her now in his mind's eye, hauntingly attached to the restless ocean that embodied her; and he knew. As it happened to all things in these waters; nature, in the form of a renegade pirate, had bewitched Elizabeth Swann.

A small gnat buzzed in front of the Commodore's face, drawing him out of his contemplative thoughts and back into the annoyance of reality. With irritation Norrington returned to the papers newly left on his desk by those who served under him. He was certain that these reports, like the ones before them, would lead him no closer to Jack Sparrow. Part of him even secretly hoped so. He had chased the man through the Caribbean countless times and had watched him narrowly escape more than once. The Commodore was certain that, given the chance, he would allow the pirate a "head start" again and again. He was also certain, however, that he wanted Jack Sparrow's head and he wanted to be the man to get it. Standing up straight, Norrington took a deep breath of the thick, oppressive air.

"Lieutenant Gillette." He yelled sharply, hearing a bit of a scramble on the other side of the door as the requested man opened it quickly and stepped through with all composure that would be expected of him.

"Yes, Commodore."

Norrington turned to face his inferior with a swift motion, feeling a drop of sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He wanted to rip the wig off then and there.

"Well?" he questioned in an irritated tone. "Report, Lieutenant."

"The troops are in place, sir."

"Good." The Commodore let his eyes slip to the window for only a moment, then continued. "Sparrow has been spotted to the south east of the island. As Mrs. Turner is due to have her child any day, he may very likely attempt a visit." He carefully watched the expression of the Lieutenant, in search of any hint of satisfaction at this newly confirmed bit of gossip. Finding only a serious stare and an unchanging expression, the superior moved on. "See that he does not make it past the docks."

"Yes, sir."

"Notify me immediately of anything suspicious. And I mean anything." Norrington paused a moment to assure that each piece of information had sunk into Gillette's brain, then, with a look, dismissed him. "That is all, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." Gillette left the room quickly, without so much as a breath of wasted air to his name.

The Commodore sat down at his heavy wooden chair, forehead tensing slightly as he thought over what had just occurred. Though he knew the Lieutenant to be an intelligent man, Norrington could not help but let one impish thought gnaw at his confidence. As he had drawn a blunt line between Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann, Gillette had not even flinched. Many in the town gossiped about the possible connection between the Governor's daughter and Jack Sparrow, but it had previously been dismissed by many citizens of Port Royal as nothing but hearsay.

Norrington had been able to protect Elizabeth easily.

If the pirate showed up, however, it would be near impossible. The city knew what should have been carefully hidden and, if he did not catch Jack in time, all their suspicions would be confirmed.

* * *

Will stood in a darkened hallway of the Governor's mansion in Port Royal Jamaica, tracing with his eyes individual grains of wood in the door to his wife's room. Raising a fist to knock, his hand froze in midair and clenched tightly.

His mind reeled, flying back to a time not so long ago when he had been just as intimidated by the same house, the same door. And the same woman inside. Will took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair distractedly and spinning around, unsure of whether to stay or go.

'This is completely mad.' He thought silently, barely keeping from landing his fist in the nearest wall. 'I should not be afraid to go into my own wife's room. Elizabeth. It's only Elizabeth.'

The problem was that Will knew she was not, in fact, **just **Elizabeth. Once again they were in her father's house, their every move being watched. It had been nearly two months since their return to Port Royal, yet they were still living outside of their own home, barely one mile's distance away from the one they were currently residing in. Will gazed at the fashionable wallpaper hungrily, thinking he would have to tear it down with his bare hands if he had to see it for much longer. He was becoming increasingly anxious as each day passed, and increasingly tired of watching Elizabeth slip away. Even more than in the arms of Jack Sparrow, Will knew his wife was being taken away from him now.

As he stood outside of the door to her old room, Will no longer faced the prospect of simply speaking to his wife, but of addressing the Governor's daughter, Miss Elizabeth Swann. Suddenly he felt as though he were fifteen again, hapless and helpless in the presence of the girl he loved.

Wiping moist hands on his trousers, the vastness of the issue between the two of them struck him entirely. He wanted nothing more than to be able to draw a weapon and solve the problem. To be himself. To act. To protect his wife, their marriage. Instead, he found himself standing perfectly still, running circles in his own mind. Without directing it to, his head came down with a resounding thud on the wall behind him, issuing a groan of utter frustration. The door cracked open and a soft shadow appeared on the wall across from him. Will remained motionless, eyes closed, hands at his sides.

"Would you like an invitation?" Elizabeth's voice was soft and calm, missing the sarcasm it had normally sent at Will Turner in the recent days. For a moment Will even thought it sounded playful.

"It couldn't hurt." Will responded quietly, eyes still closed. In the darkness of his vision he could feel the presence of his wife next to him, smell her perfume. His heart beat just a little bit faster as he could sense her honey eyes staring into him, unmoving. After a breath Elizabeth turned back into the room, the hem of her skirt brushing Will's ankle. His eyes opened quickly, a deep breath escaping his chest.

"Tea?" The questioned emanated from the spacious room, meeting him in the doorway.

Will turned into the room, dimly lit by the light of a slow burning fire in the fireplace on the right wall. He could hear each floorboard creak as he stepped closer to Elizabeth.

"No, thank you."

"Probably better." She wistfully spoke, "I don't have any." Elizabeth sat in an armchair facing the large bay window of her room. Though it was dark, her eyes gazed into another time and place, one unaffected by day or night. The scene unnerved her husband, and he spoke quickly to cover his discomfort.

"Isn't that what servants are for?" his reply was mocking, the words sharper than he had meant them to be. Elizabeth remained mute, keeping her watch on the world beyond her own. Will bit his tongue silently, the crackling of the fire ringing in his ears.

"I do not want to be here either, Will." Elizabeth sighed softly, playing with the fabric of the chair, twirling a thread between her fingers. "It's just…"

"You feel you owe it to him." He completed, sitting down in a chair across from her. Though Will could not see her face, he knew he was right. She felt obligated to stay with her father now, after what she had put him through in the last few months. Though strong willed and independent, Will knew that Elizabeth had a tender place in her heart for the man who raised her. But her husband?

"Yes." She turned her head so that her eyes looked directly into Will's. "I do."

"And me?" His voice was hoarse and his countenance honest. "What about me, Elizabeth?"

She paused for a moment, holding his look and then reached into the writing desk next to her, grabbing a piece of folded paper.

"I found this in the pocket of your coat, Will."

"What—"

"It's a letter written to you." Her jaw tightened visibly. "From my father."

A rush of adrenaline ran through the young man's veins as he faced his wife. His coat pocket. The coat he had given to her to wear into town. He merely leaned forward at the accusation, neither speaking nor preparing to listen.

"I thought you were your own person, Will. You made your own choices, took charge." Elizabeth shook her head softly. "You were a pirate."

"I was."

"And now?"

"Now? Now I'm a husband." Will leaned even further towards Elizabeth as he spoke, "And soon to be a father. Not a pirate. My child will not endure what I did." He was resolute in his answer, but a woman like Elizabeth Swann is not easily intimidated.

"That's it?" The voices had now raised to a fever pitch, though cautiously restrained, a custom gained from years of a mask of careful propriety. "Do you enjoy being caught under my father's thumb, Will? Doing what he says because he says it?"

"Elizabeth—"

"I am not a child, Will." She stormed, "I will not stand by and allow my choices to be made for me."

"And the right choice for you to make was to run off with a disease ridden pirate?"

"I wanted to be free!"

"You can't be free with _me_?"

"No." She countered. "I don't think I can."

Both stopped as a grave silence dropped suddenly. Their eyes locked together and the sound of the fire once again filled the space. Elizabeth took long, measured gasps in an effort to slow her heart and catch her breath. Once under strict control, she allowed herself to speak.

"I love him."

The shock of what she had just spoken hit both Elizabeth and Will at the same moment. Will clenched his hand into a tight fist in a meager attempt to restrain the influx of emotions coursing through his body. Elizabeth merely swallowed her fear and waited.

"And me?" Will asked, sure that regardless of the answer, he had to know the truth.

"I don't know."

"Is that the best you can offer me? You don't know." The voice, while it sounded like Will, was somehow hollow to his wife and she turned in his direction.

Elizabeth's heart broke as she allowed herself, for once, to truly look at the man she had married. His brow was furrowed, fists clenched, and a bead of sweat ran down his jaw, disappearing into the collar of his tunic. But when she looked further, into his face, she was astonished. There was no anger awaiting her. There was only a deep, insatiable longing.

"It is." Elizabeth responded, the once phrase carrying an entire relationship and two heavy hearts on its back.

"Do you know why I have withstood this, Elizabeth? All of this?" Will exploded, allowing all of the feeling trapped in his form to vent into the room. Standing and striding towards his wife he grabbed at the letter in her hand, brandishing it in the air between them.

"I have loved you since the first moment I knew you, Elizabeth." Slowly he lowered his arm and dropped the piece of paper, allowing it to float lifelessly to the floor. "And I have done everything within my power to show you. To be what you want. And if he is what you want---there is nothing more I can do."

Will's muscles relaxed noticeably as he breathed in the full realization of what he had finally admitted. He stared into his lover's eyes and, defeated, turned towards the door and took a step. Elizabeth was on her feet in less than a heartbeat.

"Will!" The strong voice resounded behind him as he put his hand on the doorknob and began to slowly, unconsciously turn it. "Will, please—"

For reasons he himself did not entirely understand, Will was facing Elizabeth a moment later, watching tears stream down her smooth, tan cheeks. There was a terror in her eyes the likes of which her husband had never seen and, as she cried out, he knew his resistance had been obliterated.

"The baby, Will." Elizabeth stepped forward, clutching her stomach with one hand and reaching for Will with the other. "I think—I think it's time."

* * *

Cliffhanger. You know, there had been a serious lack of them in recent times, so I thought I'd bring it back. Oh, and I know who the father is! Yeah, you'll probably find out next chapter, which I'll be attempting to put out before I head back to school at the end of august. everyone cross your fingers Thanks again, Steph for being my co-writer of this fic and anything else I've ever written in my life. I owe you…well, more than one. Please read and review so I won't have to write an ending note this long next time! Thanks! 


	21. Ebb and Flow

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Jack, Will, Elizabeth, Norrington, Governor Swann or any other random person/place/thing that may have appeared at one point or another, whether to my knowledge or not, in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, movies, or Disney merchandising. Don't sue me. Yeah, I know. Like this story is that important.**

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! And really, I am sorry for the cliffhanger. Sort of. Extenuating family emergency recently, so I don't know how often I'll be updating. Well, that and sophomore year of college. Stupid school is getting in the way of my education. ; ) And thanks Steph for all your help. Now, to you lovely people who have reviewed:**

**Julianna: Thanks so much for the constructive criticism! It makes me happy that you like the characterization and good grammar, because I'm pretty much anal about that stuff. ; ) Well, except for the first few chapters where I was like a sophomore in high school and apparently didn't check it as well. Thanks for telling me what you think: D**

**Princessshorty327: Well, really, what do I have to say? Hope you had a great time at Disneyland. And now I'm really sad about what I've done to Will. Sadness. Anyway, love you.**

**Ashley is the bomb: Thanks!! Please keep reading. : )**

**BroadwayMasher9009: Thank you! That made me really happy. Enjoy!!**

**Aaraya: Hope you didn't have to wait too patiently for this. ; ) And enjoy your new found knowledge.**

**Thanks again for the reviews. And now, to the story!**

* * *

Jack stared out onto the open ocean, shifting his well-trained muscles with the movement of the waves. He watched each wave ebb and flow, the white tips of foam rising and blowing off in a light wind. Green shifted to blue and then to turquoise as one wave became another and yet another.

Captain Jack Sparrow was a thrill seeking man, undoubtedly. Pirate that he was, he lived for the ecstasy that was marauding, stealing, sailing and gambling with one's own life. His love for the ocean was unsurpassed; leading him to every path he had taken thus far in his varied life. It enchanted him, asking only for his unwavering devotion and worship, offering him an endless journey in return.

Unlike the many women he had had in his lifetime, the sea was unchanging. And that is what Jack loved most. Indeed, he conceded, the waves shift endlessly, ever in a state of mournful unrest. In all of this movement, however, Jack found a firm peace. In the water he found something he could count on, in the waves, a mistress who would never leave or die. The ocean was, to Jack Sparrow, the perfect woman.

The hardened pirate snorted in distaste as he recognized that, though perfect, his mistress was no replacement for the woman he could not get out of his head or for that matter, his dreams. Jack shook his head suddenly in an attempt to shake off the thoughts that had plagued him in the night, all manner of knick-knacks clanking in his dreadlocked hair. Elizabeth again.

Despite a heavy self-dosage of hard liquor and heavy pirating in the months following Elizabeth's departure, Jack had found that the one thing he could not put out of his mind was not pleasure, treasure, or ill-gotten gains, but a woman. A woman who had bucked the propriety of her delicate upbringing for the devilish life of a pirate. A woman beautiful to behold, but nearly impossible to tie down. A woman who, if he was to believe what she had told him, was having his child.

In the dream he had seen her, young and happy, teaching a small boy to spear fish, taking his small hand in hers and demonstrating the proper way to skip a stone.

'Had Elizabeth ever done such things?' Jack wondered, an impish grin on his face. 'Undoubtedly not.'

He smirked at the idea of the woman whose fingers were once meant for needlepoint attempting to instruct a son in the ways of shooting or fistfights. The concept was, quite honestly, the first that had elicited a laugh out of the pirate since one of the many days Elizabeth had been a crewmember on the _Pearl_.

Could Elizabeth Swann raise such a child to be the proper reflection of piracy he would not doubt be obliged to become? Hardly. The socialite would be quite inadequate for such a task, at least in Jack's unforgiving view of his own skills. Elizabeth was incapable of it. She would need someone with the knowledge a growing scoundrel required. She would need a role model of ill repute, a man of notoriety and legend. She would need a father for such a child. Jack's eyes grew wide at the place of unfair honesty his own mind had led him.

She would need Jack Sparrow.

Gibbs walked up behind the captain, as he was wont to do, interrupting the surprising musings Jack was allowing himself.

"Where to, Cap'n?" The first mate asked, watching with a keen interest for Sparrow to reach for a certain compass. When he instead turned and firmly gripped the helm, Gibbs was intrigued. Jack's face slid into a half smile as he turned full to starboard, shifting each article of crew and cargo as he did. An air of insane bravado surrounded the captain, bringing a sense of normalcy once again to the crew of the _Black Pearl_. The smell of rum stunk strong on Jack's breath as he spoke.

"So glad you asked."

* * *

Will's ears rung as if an explosion had just been set off. Each sound resounded with a metallic echo and his heart beat loud and strong in his ribcage. Unconsciously, he reached for Elizabeth's elbow in an attempt to steady her.

"What?" he asked, less out of a genuine desire for an answer, but to give himself time to process what he had just heard. "You what?"

"Will" Elizabeth expressed through gritted teeth, "this baby is coming." When he did move to either help or harm her, she looked him in the eye and emphasized further.

"Now!"

William Turner stood with his mouth agape, frozen where he stood. One moment earlier, a host of different emotions had been pouring through him and, to Elizabeth, it looked as if they had overrun him entirely.

"Will!" she cried out, grabbing him with both hands and putting the full force of her contraction onto his tall frame. As if something had finally connected in his brain, Will blinked suddenly and returned to the room. Reaching out a hand just in time, he steadied his young wife and searched her countenance for any hint of what he should do next.

"I'll alert your father." He firmly stated, beginning to lower her onto the soft mattress.

"No—" Elizabeth's tone was halting and meek. The look of fear in her eyes brought him back to their childhood together, and he could not help but want to protect her. He paused for only a second and took a breath. He couldn't clear his head long enough to think it through. He wanted to protect her, to help…All the same, what could he do for a woman who didn't want him?

"Please, Will." She asked quickly, "don't leave me."

"I'll return." He stated briskly, brushing her forehead with his finger. Will stood to leave, but was stopped as he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. Another contraction hit Elizabeth hard and the pain showed visibly on her face. Reaching out her hand, she looked to Will for support. He grabbed it without hesitation, kneeling on the floor beside her, both knowing that they had reached only the beginning of a long night.

The wave of pain visibly passed over Elizabeth and it was several more seconds and a lifetime of waiting before she could look back at him without wincing. When she did, there were tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." She spoke softly, never letting go of Will's hand. "I am."

"Don't be." Will looked to Elizabeth for any clues as to what she was apologizing for. As the precious moments ticked by, none came.

"That's not it, Will." Was all she spoke, covering her mouth as she choked out a sob. She wanted so badly to let him know, to find a way to tell him. Heaviness ripped at Elizabeth's heart as she lay, waiting for more pain to come. "The midwife."

He nodded in response and stood slowly, waiting once again for a reason not to go. After a moment's hesitation Will walked out the door, leaving Elizabeth alone with her thoughts.

Moving briskly into the hallway of the great home, Will slammed the door against the wall next to it, startling the maid who had been attempting to discreetly listen in on their argument. The young woman's eyes grew wide as she turned away and pretended to be devoutly interested in the state of dust on the hall table. In no way fooled by the woman's façade, Will reached for her shoulder, only glad that he could find help so quickly.

"I'm sorry sir, I was only trying to give this table—" the young woman began, looking at the floor as she made excuses.

"Run to the midwife." Will spoke, not even recognizing the maid's words.

"Sir?"

"My child will be born with or without a midwife." He emphasized, looking the girl straight in the eyes. "Your choice." His tone never reached that of scorn or admonition but was urgent all the same. The maid's frightened eyes stood unblinking as she curtsied and scooted away.

One task completed, Will stopped and ran his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to breathe. As he did, the young man heard heavier footsteps approach him from behind. Waiting until they slowed and eventually halted close behind him, Will turned, the adrenaline in his body preparing him for a fight.

The unwigged, wide-eyed Governor, dressed only in a nightgown, caught Will more off guard than any formidable foe could have.

"Governor." He stated curtly, waiting for the elder of the two to speak first.

"Mr. Turner. I did hear a door slam, did I not?" The man was clearly out of sorts and less than happy to have been woken up in the middle of his night's rest. "And now I find you lurking outside of my daughter's room and a maid frightened half out of her wits. Do you care to explain?"

"I sent her to the midwife."

"The midwife—" the tired man put two and two together the best he could, "is everything alright?"

"If you'll excuse me Governor, my wife is having our child." Will was abrupt, further unsettling Governor Swann and causing him to shout after his retreating son in law.

"Where are you going?" His surprised voice sounded through the hall. "It is not suitable for a man to be present at the birth of his child!"

"Elizabeth is in pain." Will took a threatening step towards her father. "And until help arrives, I am not leaving her side."

With that, Will disappeared into Elizabeth's room, and left the Governor standing in the dimly lit hall. A cross look lit upon his face as his eyebrows furrowed closer together. It would be much more difficult to enact his plan if he couldn't get the boy out of the room, he considered seriously.

Weatherby Swann stared down the hallway to where his all too improper son in law had vanished and sighed deeply. Though it would be more difficult than he had originally thought, the man knew he would find a way to help his daughter. Even if it was at the expense of Will Turner.

* * *

Elizabeth had lived in the hot Caribbean since she was a girl. Her blood had long since thinned out, allowing her to adjust to the intense temperatures and humidity her home could allow. Never once in her many years living in Port Royal, however, had Elizabeth remembered sweating this much. Her brow was wet with perspiration and every nerve in her body burned like it was on fire. Screaming, she tried to gain an outlet for the pain.

Dim light reflected in Elizabeth's eyes, adding to the sensory overload she was already experiencing. Her eyes darted quickly from one wall to another, to the woman standing between her legs, to the window, to the door. In all the sights, Elizabeth could not find a familiar face when all she wanted was the comforting hand of—of whichever man would willingly give it.

She panted for air, glad to be done with another contraction. Hours had passed since the first moment she had grabbed onto Will and pleaded for help. Hours. And the midwife assured her she had even more to endure.

"Where is he?" the feverish woman asked to no one in particular.

"Your husband is right outside the door, darling." The older woman spoke in a matter of fact tone, more a statement of truth than of comfort. "He will see you and your babe soon enough."

In her mind's eye she could picture Will outside of the door, sitting on the floor or pacing through the empty hall. She could see the worry on his face and the tension in his muscles. And then she saw Jack, languidly leaning against the wall, hardly a care in the world. Elizabeth shook her head fiercely. No.

'No, that's not right.' She corrected. Jack would be worried for her too, he would feel just as much concern, and would not be nearly as concerned about propriety. He would be there holding her hand. He would. Elizabeth could see the pirate next to her, holding her hand, stroking her brow, whispering encouraging words in her ear. As a fresh contraction began to roll upon her body, a nagging doubt escaped its cage, flying into her conscious thought.

If Jack would do that for her, why wasn't he with her now?

Elizabeth screamed.

* * *

"Mr. Turner, you can come in now." The midwife's snowy white head peeked out of the door as she wiped her bloody hands on a cloth she was holding. "Be quiet though, Mrs. Turner is resting."

Will slowly picked his tired form up off of the floor and walked into the room in a trance. In the hours it had taken for the child to come into the world, he had had a lot of time to think. To count. To recount. To doubt, assure, and reassure himself. And now, at the end of his exile, Will Turner was almost entirely certain he knew the answer.

Following the small woman's gesturing arm, he stepped into his wife's bedroom. Greeted by the light of pale morning, the sound of the ocean, and the picture in front of him, Will simply stopped moving. After hours of his own anguish, he had been sure that the first view of the child would provide some incriminating evidence. But, to his surprise, when his eyes lit upon his wife and the baby in her arms, no alarms sounded. Elizabeth was lying back on a number of pillows, propped up in bed. Her face was pale and her eyelids low as she held her child.

"Go on, lad." The voice of the amused midwife goaded behind him, "Hold your son."

"Son?" He mumbled in an uncertain tone.

The midwife merely shook her head and continued her tasks, pulling miscellaneous objects into a large carpetbag. "Quick, this one." She spoke under her breath, intentionally letting Will hear.

Swallowing his expectations, Will lamely reached out towards the peaceful figures. "May I?" he fumbled.

Elizabeth looked up at him briefly, allowing her husband to see the full toll the birth had taken on her. Bags sat under her eyes and her pale skin had a yellowish hew to it. Though slightly taken back, Will gently took the child from her hands. Awkward as he was, he held the baby in strong arms, cradling his head carefully.

A lump began to form in Will's throat as he held the child. Every expectation he had formed in the hallway was shattered in one look from the infant. Strangely, the baby did not cry, but only looked sleepily into the face of the man holding him.

"His eyes are blue." The statement was not a question, but a surprised observation.

"All babies' eyes are blue at birth." Came the response from the other end of the room, though Will did not hear it. He was transfixed by the small child, staring intently into his dark eyes, color of the deep sea.

He did not see Jack in them.

For that matter, he did not see himself either.

Will had half anticipated to see an obvious indication. A baby with dreadlocks, or a bottle of rum in his hand. 'Perhaps not that obvious,' he thought, 'but something.' The child cooed in his arms and closed his eyes, curling towards the warmth of Will's chest.

"Disarming, isn't he?" The weak voice floated from Elizabeth's tired body, not worrying anyone nearly as much as it should have.

"Yes." Will responded, smiling to himself.

The new mother looked through half lidded eyes at her husband and son standing together. The child looked so perfect in his arms, so comfortable. Her heart jumped for the hundredth time in as many seconds at the sight of the baby she had brought into the world. And, holding her son, Elizabeth had to admit that Will looked as though he had finally found his destiny.

Sadly, she was about to tear it all to pieces.

"Will—" Elizabeth began carefully, the burden of ill news heavy in her voice.

"Shh, Elizabeth." He gestured to the sleeping infant, using him as an excuse for one more moment of ignorant bliss. He breathed in deeply and handed the child back to his mother, looking into her worried eyes as he resigned himself to what he knew to be the truth.

"Just as well." He covered, "The world hardly needs another William Turner."

Elizabeth closed her eyes tightly for a moment, and a single tear fell through her eyelashes and ran down her face. Her breathing was ragged and shallow and the baby began to squirm as he sensed his mother's unease.

"I'm sorry." Child in her arms, Elizabeth raised her head to see Will turn away quickly, hiding his face. Her honey eyes grew distant and began to cross as her head fell back towards the ceiling. Her grasp weakened and the child now rested on her lap, crying unhappily. At the new sound, Will turned his head to see the blood seeping into the white sheets around Elizabeth's legs.

"Elizabeth!" he frantically yelled, reaching towards her unconscious body. "Can you hear me?"

A bustle of activity began around Will as he stared at Elizabeth, waiting for a response. Before he knew it, he was once again forced out of the room and into the hallway to await whatever hand would be dealt to him. In a flash the heavy green door opened and the child, swaddled tightly, was placed in Will's arms. The midwife's white head peered out to quickly admonish him before rushing back to her patient.

"Mind the babe."

* * *

**Gosh, cliffhanger again. Oops! The plot I had originally meant for this chapter looks as though it's going to be broken up into about four more chapters. This is mainly due to the fact that I seem to have an issue rushing through plot points and rather like to drag them out to an agonizing point. Sorry. Well, at least you got a good length chapter for your trouble. And you finally know who the father is! If you're confused, just let me know. And Erika, if you're reading this, I'm sure your birth will be much easier than this one was. Right. ****slinks away quietly **


	22. Mr Cotton's Parrot

**Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me. Except for my Mac book, that is. And, please, if you're going to take that away from me Disney people, at least fix the DVD drive first. Thank you.**

**A/N: HAPPY FOUR-YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO THIS STORY!! Dear Lord, that does officially qualify me for the worst level of procrastinators anonymous. Woohoo, next piece of the story on its way. Thanks so much for the reviews. It would seem that the Sparrabeth populous is much smaller than it used to be. Or it was just pretty small to begin with…either way, I really appreciate the support. And maybe one day I'll actually write a happy story. Nah. ; ) That wouldn't distract me nearly as well from move in and nurse duties. Oh and try to stick with me, this chapter will jump around quite a bit.**

**To the amazing, wonderful, appreciated, well-loved reviewers:**

**Arraya: Thanks for all of the reviews! It's good to know that someone is reading back through the other chapters to know what's going on, because I'm certainly not. ; ) But seriously, thank you for reading and THANK YOU for reviewing. It makes me very happy. I'm glad that you can enjoy this story just as much as I can. And I suppose you'll have to see if she dies. And if the kid ends up with baby dreadlocks. Part of me thinks that would be seriously cute.  
**

** Tickle Me Emo: Let me just say, I love your penname! Anyway, thanks! And I do like cookies (although not so much when they're thrown at me...) but I'll update anyway. ; D **

**princessshorty: Okay, so I wasn't ****_that_ bad to Will, right? Right?? And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that my boyfriend's last name is Turner. Nothing at all! Oh, and Steph, I need a word. **

* * *

Jack gazed on the all too familiar scenery of Port Royal, Jamaica, looking intently at the houses, swaying palms, and government vessels floating uncomfortably close by. Leaning over the rail of the _Black Pearl_, he swatted a gnat out of his face and sniffed distastefully. 

"Smells bad."

"Cap'n?" The ever-faithful first mate spoke in quizzical response.

"You 'eard me." Jack reached a soiled and altogether questionable hand up to straighten his hat, as he turned to midship.

"Perhaps," Gibbs began carefully, following Jack as he strode across the deck, "it would be wiser, if yer plannin' on goin' ashore in such a militaristic town, to dress in somethin' a bit more inconspicuous."

The Captain turned around suddenly, landing himself squarely in Gibbs' face.

"Are you insinuating that those mangy scuppers are capable of capturing and incarcerating the great Captain Jack Sparrow?" he paused momentarily, a sour look on his face. "Again?"

Gibbs looked as though he would add his opinion in on the topic for a moment and then, with a stare to his captain, thought the better of it.

"Besides, if I am ta be hung by the neck and cleaved ta the brisket and whatever else," Jack continued, flourishing his hands wildly, "I want my hat."

"Aye Cap'n, fair enough." Gibbs assented in a less than wholehearted manner as Jack stalked off, shouting orders to the crew.

"Stand off and on, men!" He commanded. "Keep off the mainland." Several crewmembers scurried about, running towards their new positions on the _Pearl_. Eyeing the shoreline closely, Jack surveyed everything around him appearing, in his mind, decidedly captain-like. Jack smiled.

With a sudden brush of wind and a small smack one moment later, the grin was wiped off of his face as his hat fell unceremoniously to the deck. The Captain whipped around quickly, looking for the culprit, and all eyes fell to the deck. The unfortunate first mate, however, did not look away immediately and was thus self volunteered. Bumbling backwards, he could only point past Jack, up to the foreyard and the brightly colored bird sitting on it. Turning his head slowly, as if to draw out the moment for suspense, he set eyes on the guilty party.

"Mr. Cotton's parrot."

Within seconds the pistol was out and cocked. Gibbs swiftly batted it down in one more.

"No, Cap'n! We be needin' that bird." He sheepishly spoke up.

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

"Ta be a bit of a safeguard, as it were." Gibbs tried to explain, wincing in preparation of the response. "Ashore."

"Ah, Mr. Gibbs," the affronted man began, "I feel deeply touched. However, I do not have need of any escort, especially of the plumaged variety because, need I remind ya again, I'm **Captain **Jack Sparrow. Savvy?" Jack's voice had increased in intensity as he spoke and now, at the end of his rant, the crew stood stolid, none quite knowing what to do. Luckily, Cotton's parrot didn't seem to be affected.

"Captain Jack Sparrow savvy. Captain Jack Sparrow savvy." The bird butchered mercilessly, issuing many hidden laughs from the crew and even Gibbs himself. None of them, of course, had the audacity to show it in front of the Captain. Jack prepared to shoot again, but before he could even aim, the bird was flying towards shore.

"Dammit, Mr. Cotton! Why must ya blatantly disobey orders?" Jack stormed, stalking towards the older sailor. Cotton merely gave him a wide-eyed look in response.

"The bird is hardly his fault, Cap'n." Gibbs chimed in, supported by quiet agreements from the crew.

"Is it not?" Jack asked storming away to regain his bruised ego, "Then why do we let it talk for 'im?"

* * *

Looking into the Governor's house from down below, many of the inhabitants of Port Royal, Jamaica thought it an ideal place. If they were to live there, to even be invited in, their problems would melt away with the solace that is only provided to the rich. To walk along its halls would be heaven, to be a resident, more than could be imagined. Will had once seen the building this way, though he did not idealize the material riches inside. At least not those that could be used as currency in the marketplace. Now all that he had held dear, all that he had dreamt of lay inside of one small room. 

Sounds of clanking, creaking floorboards and hushed voices drifted through the frame of the door to Elizabeth's room. Will stared it down from a carefully chosen spot several feet away from the main activity. He hoped that by doing so he could restrain himself from rushing in or doing anything that, in Jack's words, would have been termed "stupid." Will banged his head against the wall, momentarily forgetting about the child he was holding, as he saw the pirate's face in his mind's eye.

Jack.

Wherever he went, whatever he did, Will never seemed to be able to escape him. Like a strong riptide, Jack Sparrow pulled whoever was around him into his games and deceptions. He had even managed to take Elizabeth.

The small baby boy began squirming again, making his guardian feel extremely uncomfortable. Throughout his life Will had struggled to find his weaknesses and master them. To better himself in any way possible and prepare for whatever lay ahead of him. This one tiny person, however, challenged all of that, all of him every second by merely existing.

Will did not know how to take care of a child. Especially a child who was not even his. Glancing from Elizabeth's shut door to the baby he was holding, he began to breathe harder. **Elizabeth** should be taking care of her child. He should be in her safe, welcoming arms where he would be loved and appreciated. Wanted.

Will sighed. He didn't mean that.

Will wanted this child. He had at one point anyway. But did either of his parents? Looking at the tiny features of the child, Will realized that he didn't know how Elizabeth felt about him. It was obvious that the child had changed her plans completely, whatever they had been. But as a mother, wasn't she required to feel something? Truthfully, he had no idea. The couple had not had a conversation about anything more serious than the weather since they had returned.

Except, of course, for several hours earlier. Will looked down at the baby he was holding. The night **he** decided to show up. Will smirked unexpectedly as he thought of the time the child had chosen to enter the world. Regardless of who would raise him, he would certainly fit into the Turner or Swann line. Or—Will swallowed hard. Or Jack Sparrow's.

With dead certainty, he admitted to himself that this child was Jack's. Who else would have chosen such an audacious moment to make his grand entrance? This child had an air of the dramatic, given to him by both of his parents. He would certainly be a handful.

Looking in the gradually brightening light of morning Will could see that he and the child were alone in the hall. Each available hand that had been nearby, save his own, was in there helping Elizabeth. And Will wanted to be there too. He was no longer sure that he could ever make it work between them again. But he knew he could not stop caring about what happened to her.

The child in his arms began to make dissatisfied noises, which Will could only assume meant he wanted his mother. Elizabeth's life had been in danger before, but never had it meant this much to another person. While Will would have lost part of himself in the death of his wife, this new baby in his arms depended upon her for his very existence. What if his last memory of his mother was being in her arms for the very first time?

'The boy doesn't deserve such a fate.' Will brooded, 'He doesn't even have a name.'

Not receiving the attention he craved, the infant's mouth opened, letting out a horrible screeching cry. Picking up the child softly, he tried to sooth its noise. The baby would have none of it. Will stood from his crouching position and began to move in any way that might possibly elicit a positive response. Had he been able to look at himself in that moment, he would have seen himself as absolutely ridiculous. Will bounced up and down, swayed, jumped, and stopped moving entirely. Finally, he took to simply walking back and forth over the worn traffic patter on the hall carpet. The child was as obstinate as the man who had helped to create him.

"Now, Sparrowling." Will spoke before he even knew what he had said, "hush!"

Will froze, wide eyed as he realized that the harsh cries had stopped. He stared at the child hard, looking into his unresponsive eyes. Understanding in a moment what had caused the child to cease his noise, Will leaned up against the wall nearest to him.

In the growing light of a Caribbean day he held the child his wife and another man had created and, breathing deeply, began to sob.

* * *

Elizabeth could hear herself moaning and feel an unbearable heat pulsing through her body, but was powerless to stop either. Far away or perhaps in a dream, voices pooled around her, telling her to do things. Or to stop doing things. As far away as they were, she tried to listen but couldn't make anything out. She only wanted them to be quiet. Her lips opened and words came out, but Elizabeth had no idea what they were. Only idle speak from a delirious brain. 

With conscious effort she pulled her mind into a place that could make sense of what was going on. What had happened? Will. The baby. Dark spots that grew bigger and wouldn't let her see. Pain. None of which made sense. Elizabeth asked what was going on, but no one seemed to hear her. Opening her eyes slightly, her long eyelashes blurred the view and she pried her eyelids open with whatever will was left.

A blurred woman stood over her, murmuring words she could not understand. Her mother? No. Elizabeth's eyes closed swiftly, her focus lost. No. Not mother. She pulled her eyes open once more. The midwife. It was the midwife.

Bright light poured through the large window in her room and Elizabeth couldn't help but think that the moon was unusually strong this night.

'I should tell Jack.' She thought. 'He would love to sail by that kind of moon.' Out of sheer exhaustion, the space before her started to darken another time. As her eyes closed, Elizabeth could have sworn she saw something move at her window. Something she had never before seen at night. A parrot.

* * *

A large striped beetle clicked absentmindedly on the windowsill in front of James Norrington. He intently watched the flickering lights in windows now slowly disappearing all over the city as the sun finished its slow ascent into the morning sky. Word had reached the Commodore early that morning of the birth of Elizabeth Swann Turner's child, making him officially on edge, and he had been unable to sleep for several hours. Given the situation, he had decided to make use of his time, sending even more men out in search of Sparrow. 

The likelihood that Jack Sparrow would show up in Port Royal, sneaking in directly under Norrington's nose, was far too high for the man to ignore. Looking back on his encounters with the pirate, he did not have any strong vendetta against him, save that hanging him might offer the kind of recognition a man hopes for in his chosen line of work. In killing Jack Sparrow he had everything to gain and nothing to lose.

Once the pirate was safely disposed of, he would finally be able to live down what had plagued him personally and professionally for several months now: the escape of "Captain" Jack Sparrow at the moment of his execution. And, with Jack Sparrow gone, he would not have to concern himself with the safety or well being of Elizabeth. Norrington watched the bug crawl across the sill, overcome by the growing heat of the day. He had entrusted Elizabeth to Turner upon the dissolution of his own engagement, and in many ways was still waiting for the blacksmith to prove himself.

Norrington turned his eyes to the Governor's mansion, white and shining in the light of morning. He did feel for the man though. As rivals for Elizabeth's hand, Norrington had thought them to be worlds apart in breeding, class, and countenance. Now he saw that they were not so different, both victims of the young woman's passing fancy.

Norrington stood up, giving his tense muscles a fleeting chance to change position and giving him a moment of rest. Staring with a trained and over-excited eye he looked through the now occupied streets of the city, bustling with activity. He wanted intensely to be out there searching for the pirate himself. But as of recently the _Black Pearl_ had only been spotted in the general area, floating off the coast of the island. Norrington, though itching for a fight, could hardly justify an aimless witch-hunt around the Caribbean to his superiors.

Would Sparrow be so bold as to walk through the city in his normally conspicuous manner, drawing an absurd amount of attention? James Norrington could only hope so.

A heavy knock sounded on the door before it slowly opened to a young man dressed in uniform. Leaning on the heavy wooden desk, Norrington did not turn to towards the newcomer, his annoyed, over-tired manner making him seem quite imposing.

"Knocking does not automatically entail permission to enter." He spoke in calm, measured words. "You should do well to remember that in the future."

"I'm sorry, sir." He responded in a shaky tone, causing his superior to realize that he was little more than a boy. "It won't happen again."

Norrington smoothly rose to face him, allowing a lighter air to enter into his demeanor for the boy's sake. He had been on edge since before sunrise that morning, and it was beginning to take its toll.

"Good." He assented. "You have permission to speak."

Taking a deep breath in, the young man gathered himself enough to give the news he was sent to pass on.

"I was sent from the Governor's household, sir."

Norrington's heart beat rose for only an instant before he reined it into submission.

"And?"

"The child was safely delivered. A boy." The Commodore nodded impatiently. "But Mrs. Turner seems to have had a difficult time. Governor Swann wishes you to know that he is doing all in his power for his daughter."

The messenger did not notice how the line of Norrington's mouth straightened and held tight when he spoke. Nor did he see the slight change in the color of the Commodore's pallor when no more information was given.

"Anything else?" Norrington questioned, obviously digging for more information.

"Sir," the youth began uncertainly, "I was there. Outside of the room, I mean. I saw inside when the door opened. She—she didn't sound well, sir."

"Not well?" He voice was low, but terse. "How?"

"She was speaking things outside of understanding sir." He tried to clarify. "In her sleep, most like."

"Did she say anything about someone coming for her?" His eyes stared coldly past the boy, thinking only of the people bustling about in the streets below him.

"No sir. The only thing I could make out was about a parrot." Norrington's forehead furrowed slightly. "Funny how important small things can seem to a sick mind." The boy mumbled as an afterthought.

"A parrot?"

"Yes, sir." The boy blushed at the absurdity of his own words. "A parrot called Cotton, sir."

The Commodore looked intently at the individual before him, seeing not a person, but a bird, flying high above the battlements to a waiting ship. A ship with black sails.

"Thank you." Norrington spoke suddenly, returning to his place at the window. "You're dismissed."

* * *

After many hours of business, noise, and activity, the Governor's mansion was finally quiet again. Servants walked in silence to their tasks, heels clicking slightly on the stone floors of the main entrance. Maids folded linens, dusted polished wood and spoke to each other in the hushed tones of juicy gossip as they passed in the halls. The cook prepared the midday meal and the Governor's personnel shuffled papers about. All was a usual day in the house of Weatherby Swann, Governor of Port Royal, Jamaica. 

This lack of the unusual was precisely what woke Will Turner up from his exhausted sleep on a hard floor. The heat around him was oppressive, humidity from the Caribbean day wrapping about his aching body and reminding him instantly that he was no longer in the place of his dreams. Despite the assurance that he was no longer dreaming, Will realized that he did not entirely know where he was. Raising himself up on one elbow he looked around, seeing the same wallpaper and floorboards he had been staring at since the night before. Will groaned at the thought, holding his head in one hand as he attempted to shake the grogginess from his mind.

Through the small crack between the door in front of him and the floor, a beam of light glared straight at Will, bringing him in quick sequence back to reality. Elizabeth. He jumped to his feet, head spinning slightly as he put his hand on the doorknob and rushed into the room. The door opened swiftly, slamming against the wall next to it. Will's eyes darted around the room, attempting to take in the surprising normalcy of what was about him.

Elizabeth's bed was freshly made, each sheet clean and white with no spot or trace of blood. The floor was clean, devoid of the people, linens, or medical tools that had been there when he left. Walking to one of the room's large windows, tightly shut, Will noticed that the fireplace was empty, only one or two glowing coals left to show that there had ever been a fire lit. Each object sat in undisturbed silence, refusing to offer any clues to the man standing in shock in the center of the room. Where had she gone?

Walking to the door, Will stepped out into the hallway and carefully looked back and forth, searching for any idea of exactly what had happened. Seeing no person or evidence in either direction, Will began to wonder if anything had even happened at all. Retracing his steps, he meticulously thought through the events of the morning before.

He had been in the room with Elizabeth. Will stepped towards Elizabeth's bedroom, finding the same lack of anything unusual he had upon first entering. Not there. Then he had waited in the hall, having been sent away by the midwife. The baby screamed and he held him tight in his arms. The baby.

Memories grey and fuzzy swirled in his mind from the early morning hours. He remembered his own head rising and falling, victim of the exhaustion he felt. The child in his arms slept also, his tiny chest moving as he breathed. Will had felt his arms relax as sleep slowly crept over him. In a moment of sheer fatigue, Elizabeth's maidservant had pulled the child from his arms. Will's breath became shallow and fast as the silence around him rang in his ears. The nursery. His heart beat strongly as he ran down the hall, turning carefully in what he hoped was the right direction.

The maid's surprised face met him as he stormed in the door to the tiny room. Panic rose in his throat as he stared at the one piece of furniture in the brand new nursery.

The cradle was empty.

* * *

**So I guess I've decided that I like to have a bit of drama at the end of each chapter. It makes me optimistic that someone will come back to read more. Oh, let me just clarify that in the section with Elizabeth, it is not in fact night time. The last time she remembers being awake it was night and so she is seeing things through those eyes. Got it? Maybe? **

**Please review!! I'm seriously getting depressed about how this whole review thing is going. Just let me know anything you think. Insults, complements, thoughts, the word Bob. Anything. Thanks guys. Love you all! (oh, and, as always: thanks steph)**


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